Teapots, Magick, and Fear
by CanemMaiden
Summary: A witch must rely on others to improve herself, and this company may not always be in the best of tastes, but she might learn that not everything can be faced with just magick. This story is part of a series and the romance involved is a slow burn. I will be posting one chapter every Monday and I will be updating Deviantart with illustrations for this story. Check Profile.
1. Too Much Steel

The witch stepped off the train into the swamped subway station and quickly clutched her bag to her chest. The ride had her a bit claustrophobic and on edge, with so many people stuffed into one space. She could never have imagined the Gotham stations would be so crowded at this hour. She glanced down at her pocket watch, and indeed it was merely 3 p.m.! She knew almost nothing about the city, but she thought she could manage at least one thing; avoiding as many people as possible. Sighing, she straightened the bandana wrapped around her head and returned her sunglasses to her face. She best just get to the flat as quickly as she could before she found herself in any more company.

For Epithumia, it wasn't the constant presence of ruffians that shot eyes at her satchel, or the slight smell that wafted from the multitudes of homeless, it was everyone. It started many lifetimes ago, but she still pushed past them all, making herself small and scarce; something that came naturally. She had always found it better to hide than to be sentenced to exile, or as a simple man would put it, rejected.

The street became filthier, the homeless tripled, and the buildings became near ruins as she headed towards the direction of her flat rental, in the Cauldron district. It was all she could afford in a city as big as Gotham. Even though Gotham had its wars and dark underbelly, it still was a lavish city and had a hard, thick line between luxury and scraps.

She got inside and had barely laid her things on the kitchen counter when her cellphone rang.

"Bashem?!" Jason Blood's voice sounded frantic on the other end.

"Yes Jason, are you ok?!"

"Why did I even give you this phone if you're not going to use it?"

She blinked. "Pardon?"

"I've called you five times in the last four hours! Even if you were busy, you could have at least texted."

"I'm sorry Jason"- she lazily falls into the couch- "The idea of phones is still new to me. I didn't even hear it ring until now."

"I know, but- never mind. Have you found your way safely?"

"Yes, I've just arrived. It's not too bad of a place, considering how cheap it ended up being."

There was a slight pause- "I wish you would have considered staying with me. It doesn't make any sense, letting a friend stay in rentals when I have two rooms to spare."

Epithumia sat up and headed to the bedroom. "We've had this talk Jason, I can't handle your condo."

"I know, I know. I'm just nervous with the thought of you in this city. It's not a place to get lost or take a vacation in. This city is dangerous."

"You worry too much, old friend. I'm home now, and I'll head over tomorrow to talk about the ritual, but for now, I need to unpack."

"Ah, right then. Well please remember that my number is at your disposal if you need it Epi. Goodnight."

By morning, the quirky little witch had a crème cheese bagel wedged in her mouth and was out the door by 10 a.m. Her black skirt bounced all the way down the steps of the apartment, as she hastily made her way to the subway station. The crowds were not any more pleasant, but they were significantly smaller and Epithumia could at least feel herself breathe a little better. She was hidden under her hair bandana and shades, keeping her protected, as she pushed past the ruckus and the overbearing scents of cologne. Her small satchel felt heavy and could practically slip out her sweaty fingers.

The trip was a long one, well at least that's how she felt. With Jason's condo two islands away in the Diamond District on Burnley Island, the witch found herself on a seemingly long subway ride. By stop fifth teen she let out a deep sigh, from lack of breath and practically ran out of the train.

'You know what?'- she thought as she adjusted her shades – 'I can walk the rest of the way, it's only a few more blocks.'

"Epi I can't thank you enough for coming all this way, I'm really proud of you for taking a step like this."

Jason swung the door wide for his long-awaited friend and extended his arms for a hug, to which she gladly threw herself into. He ushered her into the parlor, where a cheese platter awaited them and a bottle of Malbec red wine. The fireplace was lit and seemed to make the white streak in Jason's red hair glow.

"So how was your first day in Gotham? I know it can't be too pleasant of a place for you." He inquires as he pours them both a glass.

"Jace I can barely breathe on that subway. How on earth can people live like this? I come from a secluded house, in the middle of 'Nowhere' Pennsylvania, I can't see the need for so much steel."

"Epi, you wouldn't have to go outside at all, if you would simply stay here."

The witch shifted in her seat, as she eyed the display cases that surrounded them both. Jason Blood was a collector of artifacts and relics, but more than that, he was a collector of items drenched in energy.

"For the last time, we've talked about this, Jace. This place-"

"I know, the energies clash with yours."

Nodding, she takes a sip.

"Let's get started with the layout of the ritual, shall we? Halloween is only five days away, and you need to know what you'll be doing."

With those words, he rose from his chair and began on a more serious topic. They talked and practiced until the sun crossed the sky. They practiced incantations, drew proper sigils, and discussed the order in which everything will be done. Once they both felt they had done enough for the day, they sat back down to their glasses of wine.

"Jace, I don't know if I can do all of this. What if I mess up?"

"You're not going to mess up, and even if you did there will be plenty of masters right there with you through the whole process."

"But I don't excel in these advanced stages of magic. You know I'm simply an alchemist and a miner necromancer, at best."

"You don't understand Epi, that's why I wanted you here." Jason gets up and goes to pour himself another glass. "This is the perfect opportunity to expand your horizons and meet others just like us."

"I've been in hiding for years, you can't expect me to be able to turn around and act like a normal human again. Everything has changed in the last forty years Jace, everything from customs, to style, to speech, and I can't keep up with it all."

"Listen, your social life is not the only reason I want you to participate. I want to help you expand your magic. Magic is a link to one's soul, and the very essence of life, Epi. You would do well to reach deeper into the arcane arts." He stands over her chair and places his free hand on her shoulder. "However, I do want you to consider stepping out of your comfort zone, socially that is. There is a coffee shop not too far from here, in Otisburg called 'Grinding Days'. It's owned by an old friend of mine, Thomas Brundy. I trust that shop, and I feel you should go and just sit sometimes. You can learn a lot about people by just watching."

The witch finishes her glass as she rises from the chair, "Some other time Jason. I really just want to get back to the apartment."

He hands her, her satchel, "You can't keep hiding like this, Epi."

"I'm sure gonna try, Jace. I'm sure gonna try"


	2. Coffee Anyone?

"So today, I thought we would talk about vessels."

Jason placed several old and musty books out in front of her, each one looking more worse for wear. Pulling up a chair next to her at the dining room table, he started to carefully open one of the books. He wore gloves to protect the fading words from any more damage and took his time in finding the ancient scripture within the crumbling, dark, orange pages.

The text itself was in Italian. Jason and Epithumia both were fluent in several different languages, with centuries of time to contribute to their studies, so the witch didn't even bat an eye to the foreign language placed before her. The pages were inscribed with intricate illustrations of examples of historical vessels; colored and detailed with precision.

"Now I believe the most important thing to remember, and the one thing you will learn quickly is that absolutely anything can become a vessel."

The witch chuckles nudging him. "I've got a wonderful example of one right here."

"Yes well, I'm a specific type of vessel. I am what's known as a lid vessel."- He turns the pages to where a passage on the subject is found- "This is a vessel type used to keep an entity/energy under check, either by dividing and releasing small amounts at a time or by maintaining an entity and controlling the time it spends out of the vessel before returning."

The text then listed historical examples that Epithumia wasn't familiar with, but Jason turned the page and continued on.

"There are also attachment vessels that occur when a voluntary attachment is made between either and energy or entity and an object or person. Demonic possession is a great example of this."

The illustrations next to this passage were dark and showed a man, eating bugs with the white outline of a demon tracing his body.

"Next there are ordained vessels which are vessels that are unique and have been preordained to carry a certain energy or entity. These vessels hold only what they were made from the beginning to hold. Moving on, we have extension vessels, these contain a piece of someone's soul or their magick. My personal favorite is the key vessels. These vessels are used to store knowledge or lock away a door or a portal."- as the page colorfully displayed an example- "These bits of knowledge or passages can be accessed if the vessel is opened or broken properly. However, if the vessel is destroyed or opened incorrectly, the knowledge or access to the passage could be lost entirely."

"The one we will be strengthening, on Halloween is a vessel classified as an exploited vessel."- Jason turns the page once more and gestures to a specific paragraph that's laced with illustrations. "These vessels are usually last-minute plans when all others fail. They can be anything from a camera to a beach ball, but they all serve the same purpose of containing energy, magick, or an entity."

Epithumia tilts her head with a question on her tongue. "What's the make of this vessel we will be dealing with?"

"It's a teapot. The vessel used to be a book, but the pages rotted, and the cover ripped open. A damaged vessel is dangerous, and the energy must be transferred quickly to another."

"Why was a teapot chosen?"

Jason took a little pause. Scratching his hair uncomfortably, he stood to add another log to the fire.

"It wasn't any kind of situation that could have been planned. I was careless, and never predicted that the book would fail before the next vessel could finish being prepared." He leaned against the mantle, staring into the fire. "A teapot was the nearest object when the event occurred."

"Jason, don't be glum, you got the energy under control and were able to contain it, right?"

"It wasn't any kind of energy. What is in that teapot is a type of demon. A living, breathing, being with the process of thought, and the capability of learning from its mistakes."

Epithumia shifted in her seat, "I'm guessing this demon is nothing like the ones I'm used to."

"I think that will be enough for today." He had turned around and saw her unease in her fidgeting fingers.

"But it's only 5:28 p.m."

"Yes well, you have put in a lot of hours today, and I'm expecting company later tonight, so I'm sure you can find something more exciting to do." He chuckles. "I know you haven't visited that coffee shop yet. Why don't you head there on your way back?"

"Fine but know that I'm only doing it because you're not going to leave me be until I do."

"Say hi to Mr. Brundy for me, won't you?" He teases.

She rolled her eyes, as she jokingly stuck out her tongue while closing the door.

The weather was clouding over quite a bit, as Epithumia constantly glanced down at the map on her phone. She hadn't realized that it was scheduled to rain. The streets, she cluelessly searched, were already soaked from the earlier pour, but she took little notice as 'Grinding Days' came into view. The soft rain, that had just begun, hurried her along and ushered her inside.

It was a quaint place that screamed convenience, for the cheap prices were written in cursive on a blackboard just inside the door. The entire shop was painted with warm rich colors, inspiring a homey feeling, and the unmistakable, overbearing scent of coffee that would shake anyone awake, wafted to all corners of the space.

There was a young man operating the register and flirting with the two women currently ordering. His nametag read "Ryan" in bold capital letters, and he dazzled the giggling teens with honeyed words and the occasional flick of the dirty blond bangs that hung in his face. After preparing their drinks and so obviously sliding a napkin with numbers scrawled on the top, he turned eyes to Epithumia and greeted her in a charming generic way.

"Welcome beautiful, what can I get for you today?"

"Just a cup of hot chocolate would be fine." She answered plainly.

"Whip or no whip babe?"

"No whip, and please be sure to not flip your hair while you're making it."

His smile dissolved and he sneered while turning around to make her drink.

Epithumia glanced about the room from where she stood. From the front door, the counter was centered and the first thing she saw; with its toffy colored granite top, a large glass case filled with soft pastries, and a large black register that was to the far-right corner on the counter. The room continued to the right of the counter, with dark brown, worn, leather booths that ran along the warm orange wall, all the way to the back. A few high tables dotted the front, near the sugar and crème counter with built-in outlets. The kitchen was nothing more than a large square that jutted out into the space behind the counter, with a glass swinging door. Along all of the walls were comforting pictures of parks, coffee art, and the insides of libraries to give the entire establishment its chill and comforting appeal.

The place didn't hold a lot of people, but it certainly held a variety. In one booth was a businessman dressed to the nines on his laptop, and in another sat a student struggling to study. At the two tables near the shop window, was a gathering of three young groupies glued to their phones, and towards the back was a man overly interested in the golf tournament being aired on the television that hung in the corner, near to where he sat.

Ryan cleared his throat holding out the mug for her to take. She took it with both hands as the smell of chocolate briefly blotted out the stench of coffee.

"By the way"-Jason's words came back to her- "Is Mr. Brundy around today?"

"Sorry Ma'am, he's out of town I believe, not sure when he'll be back."

"Ah, thank you."

Off to the side, just before the counter, was a small book nook, in which the witch found her seat. It contained a single plush chair that was tucked in the corner of four medium bookshelves. The shelves held quite a few of the more well-known titles, such as "The Crucible", "Me Before You", and "Anne of Green Gables", but also a lot of lesser-known titles. The spines were worn and stained, to which she suspected them to be thrift or donated books. She pulled one from the shelf and sat down in the worn, dark leather armchair.

The chair was out of sight from the rest of the coffee shop, but she had a perfect view of the outside, to which she enjoyed the sights and sounds of the rain while thumbing through "The Witch of Blackbird Pond". She occasionally reached for her warm mug, that occupied the windowsill until it was empty, and continued her reading until she was one third through the book, but to much of her surprise the rain outside had worsened; never mind that it was already 9:15 pm and she had not brought an umbrella.

A sigh escaped her as she closed the book in defeat and set it on the windowsill. She reached for her empty mug to return it when gunfire rang out in the small shop. The fire rang in her ears and she nearly dropped her mug.

"Everyone get out! This establishment is now conducting a business meeting!"

Epithumia could see a tall slightly buff man, holding an AK-47 in the bright reflection on the glass window. He set off his gun in rapid-fire at the ceiling, causing the coffee shop to fill with shrill screams and a stampede of footsteps as the witch saw from her corner everyone pushing to get out the door. The man that had been watching golf shoved aside the businessman who crashed into the bookshelf right to the side of the door, causing it to come toppling down right in front of the chair where she sat.

The shop emptied of customers, but Epithumia quietly and calmly raised her feet into the chair, realizing she was trapped, and that the best course of action was to remain unseen.


	3. Message Sent

The coffee shop was in chaos. The small crowd of people were desperately pushing to get out of the door, leaving behind their purses, laptops, spilled coffee, and a fallen bookcase. It wasn't long however before Epithumia was the only civilian left behind; at least that's what she thought until a man's desperate yell could be heard from the other side of the bookcases.

She tried to see who through the reflection in the window, but with no luck. The multiple assailants had him circled to the far left, behind the counter, and were knocking his head around.

There were five brutes in total, all dressed in dark-colored sweats and holding automatic guns. The four threatened the unknown man, and laughed at his terror, while the fifth was struggling to pop open the register.

"Mr. Fin, you may cease your efforts with the register, we are not common criminals." A singsong voice, with a tone like that of scraping, folding cardboard, floated in from a shadow moving from the kitchen door. "We are men of business."

A wiry figure stepped into view. His face was hidden under a burlap mask with dark, stitched slits for the eyes. Black twine wrapped around his worn leather farmer's hat and his flannel shirt was left unbuttoned to show a dirty T-shirt, with torn holes and red stains. In his hand was a dirt pick, with which he rested against his shoulder, and the carcasses of two crows hung down from both shoulders by thin black rope. He strode in with a quirky gait that held a sort of elegance and pride, as he took his spot on the far-right side of the register.

Epithumia slowly shifted back a little farther in her seat when she turned from the window and glanced at what little counter she could see, for she discovered she had a clear and direct visual of him.

The circle of lackeys opened for him, from what she could see back in the window's view.

"Ryan Swelter, how nice to see you again, child. Do you happen to know where Mr. Brundy is today?"

She still couldn't get a glimpse of him, but she heard Ryan's labored voice as he struggled to catch his breath, "H-he's out of t-t-town, Sir."

"Oh, how fun. Vacation perhaps?"

Ryan didn't say a word, but she assumed he must have given some form of response for the boys surrounding him chuckled.

The masked man semi-casually leaned back against the counter, removed a napkin from its stack, and began to wipe down his pick.

"This reminds me of a man I knew a while back. I remember he had acrophobia and a form of politicophobia. A very interesting and intelligent man, though I will never forget the most ludicrous thing he ever did. He tried to make a cut and run, and I must say he did a hell of a job too. However, when I paid him a long-awaited visit, I left with the pleasure of having watched this man tear off his own flesh, strip by strip until there was nothing left for him to dig his trembling hands into."

"Oh God please." Ryan's voice squeaked at an almost inaudible volume.

"Now Mr. Swelter, would you like to call Mr. Brundy, and inform him of the situation that he has dangerously put you in?"

"I-I'm sorry s-sir, we only have the s-store manager's number. He's the only one we are a-allowed to call."

Epithumia leaned forward, hoping to hear better, and just as carefully as she did, the two stitched slits on that burlap sack positioned the witch in their sights. She naturally froze but remained calm. There was nothing he could do to kill her. Nothing, unless he knew magic. Still, having a bullet go through her head would be excruciatingly painful, hard to imagine an entire clip of them. Naturally wishing to stay out of this, she remained still, even though she oddly felt as if he were smiling at her. No one seemed to notice as he eerily stared at her the whole while continuing.

"This is troubling. Here I am trying to contact your boss and have found no means to communicate."- he finally turned his attention back to Ryan- "I guess I will have to leave a message with you."

"N-no sir, please!"

The masked man took a step forward and tilted his head, "No? You don't want to help me provide a simple message for your overseer?"- he clicked his tongue and shook his head in mock disappointment- "I thought I could count on you Mr. Swelter."

"Wait! You can! Y-yes! I-I mean"- the man started to cry- "I'm so sorry sir. I p-promise I'll get it to him."

"I know you will, child."

He turned back to the napkin he had used earlier, with all its grime, and pulled a sharpie from the pen holder. After briefly writing down a note, he traded the marker for a paperclip, and slowly approached Ryan.

"Tell me Mr. Swelter, what do you fear?"

The group of thugs blocked any chance of her seeing anything, but Epithumia heard Ryan plead in a heightened panic. Soon to follow was uncontrollable screaming, so horrible, and like nothing that she had ever heard, that the witch felt the temperature of her body drop as she began to sweat.

"I think the message will be loud and clear gentlemen."- He reappeared from out of the circle of his men- "Take him to the freezer and lower the temperature further. I want that look frozen on his face for Mr. Brundy."

"Of course, Boss."

The men collectively bent down and lifted the thrashing employee by each of his limbs and struggled to get him through the kitchen door, while their boss moved back beside the register.

Once they disappeared behind the door, Epithumia found the masked man's eyes on her once more. This time, her blood was cold, her breathing hard, and the terror she felt, written all on her face, and swimming in her golden eyes. She rummaged through her thoughts, wondering if she should speak, wondering if it would matter.

The silence between them was choking. The trembling girl didn't know if she should try to run or pull out an enchanted charm, for a force field, from her bag, but before she could reach for her satchel, one of the thugs had returned from the kitchen.

"It's done, sir."

"Very good. I don't think there is anything else here for us."

The stitched slits released their hold on her, as he turned to leave, but Epithumia remained unmoving for a good twenty minutes, wondering what she had witnessed. She had no knowledge of any kind of power that could send a man into such a state. She wasn't even sure if what he used wasn't magick. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she found herself unable to rule out the possibility.


	4. Social

Jason handed Epithumia the chalk.

"Just like this one here,"-he points to a pentagram in the spellbook- "and you have to be careful. Any smudge or imperfection can ruin the whole protection ward."

She nods. Taking the chalk in her hand, and kneeling in front of the glowing fireplace, she begins to trace a large circle.

"Yes Epi, very good. Now move on to the symbols that go on the ridge."

She did what she was told with as much precision as she could. She normally wore skirts or dresses, but tonight she wore black dress pants, careful to not have her skirt disturb the runes. Her hand traced around the circle, leaving behind an ancient language of power. The witch paused, at a pair of lines. Those slits of chalk. Those eyes.

Epithumia remembers him turning to leave, and the state he had left her in. The sweat was still fresh on her body when she finally rose to step carefully as she could, with her shaking legs, over the fallen bookcase. Her balance was a little off as she teetered towards the kitchen as quietly as she could.

Once she pushed open the swinging door, the barely muffled screams of Ryan could be heard from the freezer. She didn't need to walk any closer to see the chain wrapped loosely around the handles, and upon knowing all the materials that were in her bag, she knew she couldn't get the door open without help.

'Where in the hell are all of the police? Did nobody that ran out call them?' She angrily thought as she pressed the store phone to her ear.

The flashing blues and reds seemed to take forever to come into view, as she sat by the front door and waited. The witch had tried to talk to Ryan through the freezer to calm him down before she gave up. It was almost as if he couldn't hear her and had continued to scream as loud as his lungs would allow.

"EPITHUMIA!"

"What?!"

Jason had grabbed her by both arms and yanked her off of the pentagram that was now glowing in neon yellow. She gasped as both of them toppled backwards onto the floor while the glowing increased. Jason scrambled back to his feet and ran to a cabinet and threw open its doors.

"Jace?!"

At this point, the glowing had dimmed and the color had blotted out into a grotesque swirl of dark colors, like that of vomit. Epithumia pushed herself further away from the pentagram's edge as Jason came back with a bottle of bright blue liquid to which he tossed the entire bottle into the circle.

"Haec porta claudere. Et non sit qui maneat!" Jason shouted while shielding Epithumia with his arms.

There was a force, like that of a vacuum, swallowing all of the energy and light of the pentagram into its center. The gusts became like that of a tornado for but two seconds before everything became still, and the lights of the room flickered back on and the pentagram remanence was nothing but large scuffs of chalk on the ground.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING?!" Jason had finally spun around to loudly express his disapproval.

"I'm sorry! I think I just zoned out for a second."

"Epi, you can't do that while performing this kind of magick! You could have summoned a creature or had opened a portal and been dragged inside!"

The witch huffs and stands to straighten up. "I know I know, I didn't realize my hand was still writing."

"What could have so easily distracted you?" There was a high volume of disbelief in his voice.

"It doesn't matter, let us just go ahead and try again."

Jason crossed his arms and scowled. "No. We are not continuing anything until you are focused enough to do so."

"I told you I am. Don't start treating me like a child Jason. I am perfectly capable of learning from my mistakes. If I've said it won't happen again then it won't."

Just then, there was a hearty knock on the door, and both Epithumia and Jason glanced at each other in surprise.

"Were you expecting company, Jason?"

"I certainly was not."

He took a few steps with the intention of addressing the visitor, but a woman's silvery voice could be heard from the other side.

"Rood siht nepo dna kcolnu."

The door swung open on its own accord to reveal a woman with raven black hair and a boyish grin. She ducked down to enter in with her top hat and trailing in just behind her, and hovering in the air, were two large stacks of books.

"Zatanna?" Jason didn't seem too alarmed, just mildly confused.

"Jason you won't believe the collection that they have at the Gotham library! They actually have genuine magick books! Look! I can't believe they allow the public access to these!"

As she said this, she grabbed a few from the piles in mid-air and excitedly pointed to their covers, while Jason and Epithumia still stood with wide eyes. Zatanna's gaze naturally fell on Epithumia and then to the large chalk markings on the floor.

"Oh, am I interrupting something?"

Jason shook his head annoyed, "No, we were just finished."

"What?!"- Epithumia heatedly protested – "You can't be serious Jason!"

"I am. You can't focus right now so we are done." His voice was calm but firm. "Besides we have a guest. Epithumia I would like you to meet Zatanna, she is one of the masters that will be helping with the ritual tomorrow night."

Epithumia hated how smoothly he was able to change the subject, but in seeing no reason to be rude, she bowed out of habit and addressed her superior.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Zatanna, I am Epithumia, but you may call me Epi for short."

Zatanna smiled and nodded back, "The pleasure is mine Epi. You know Jace"- she quickly turned her attention- "It sounds to me like she just needs a break. I know a wonderful place we can all grab a drink."

Jason sighed a little too loud. "Zee, I don't really feel like"-

"I wasn't asking Jace, let's go." The woman had flicked him a tired glance as she quickly set down her two piles of books on the table and opened the door for both of them to follow.

The bar was a little crowed, but the level of noise and excitement was almost nonexistent; in fact, Epithumia was pleasantly surprised that this many people could be this mellow. The bar had plenty of seats available, as they made their way other, for most of the crowd was seated at the tables near the dartboard, pool tables, and T.V. All of the bottles glistened in color, as the tiles on the wall behind their shelves slowly turned from one color to the next. They sat with Jason in the middle, and just as they did, a spunky redhead with an afro of tight curls nesting on her head, and a splash of freckles on her smiling cheeks approached them from behind the bar.

"Hey y'all, what can I getcha?"

Her accent was hard to miss and the sweet southern charm she had was refreshing.

"I'll have a bourbon with a sugar, please." Jason was the first to order as the bartender quickly placed coasters down in front of the three.

"Give me a simple Rum and Coke,"- Zatanna placed her card on the bar- "and the tab is on me."

"I would like a cup of tea, please ma'am, and thank you."

"No no Epi, they don't serve hot tea at bars." Jason chuckles and slaps a hand to her shoulder playfully. "She'll have a ginger beer and mint syrup."

The three started to converse in small talk about the day, and news in Gotham. After two drinks in, Zatanna looks to Epithumia.

"So how exactly did you meet Jace here, Epi? Hopefully, it wasn't through an ordeal caused by that demon Etrigan. Was it?"

The very idea of that hellspawn cracked a smile onto the witch's face. She knew that demon had no limits as to what he did, but even so, his rhymes and sadistic pranks she would always find humor in; that is, when he wouldn't be flirting with every dark-haired beauty he would see, herself included.

"Fortunately, not. Jason and I actually met each other three times over the course of a century. It wasn't until I saw him in 1616 as a nobleman, in a room with a bunch of political vultures, that we both came to realize that we were both cursed. He then helped me reach American shores during the pilgrimage ."

Zatanna's eyes widened, "So you're an immortal?"

"No. I'm just eternally youthful. There is still one fatal weakness that I have."

"So then, when were you born?"

"July 3, 1386."

"Oh my God! What's it been like, living through the constant change of the world?"

Epithumia finished her drink and showed an amused smile on her face. "I may be old, but for most of my life, I have lived outside of society. I have lived in a pattern of spending forty years in hiding, then spending thirteen years in society, then back into hiding, so I've only seen the world in a few different lights, compared to the many it has had."

"Then when were you in society last?"

"From 1990 till 2003."

"Wait. It hasn't been forty years."

"I know. I wasn't supposed to come back out until 2044, but you can thank Jason for that."

Jason defensively chimed in, "I'm trying to help her break that nasty habit. The world is not the way it used to be."

"Well I can certainly help," -Zatanna downed her final drink and raised her hand for the bill- "Epithumia you're going to be coming with me tomorrow."


	5. Shopping Her Bored

"Oh! Try this on!" Zatanna squealed with such excitement.

"Zatanna, I really can't breathe in this fitting room."

"Don't be such a sourpuss."

The raven-haired maiden tossed a few more colorful clothes over the changing room door as she continued pulling out of a Sunday-dress vest rack.

The ladies were out on the town, perusing windows when Zatanna came to the conclusion that Epithumia and her both needed new outfits after spotting beautiful dresses in a window. She had quickly grabbed Epi's arm and ran inside without showing any concern towards her protests.

"Awww! Pink looks so wonderful on you!"

The witch came out of the fitting room wearing a disgruntled expression along with the dress that Zatanna had chosen for her.

She was beginning to pout while Zee laughed at her sour face, "It's not the dark ages anymore girl, not that I can really talk much. Most of what I own is black and white."

"Is there something, in particular, you're looking for, Zee?"

"Well, I really want a new stage outfit."

The two women began to gather up the clothes they had tried on and put them back on their hangers.

"Stage outfit? Like for hero work?"

"Actually no."

Zatanna started to sound a little embarrassed, like someone admitting they like fanfiction while still being proud.

"I also perform stage magic as a hobby. It's my passion to make people light up in wonder at hallucinations they can learn themselves. It almost feels like I'm making magic, less out of reach."

Zatanna trailed off from there, becoming lost, while Epithumia frowned at the thought. The witch hated people, she had come to understand how wonderful magick can be, and the hope it can bring with it, but she never could fathom that the world could see that and be grateful. No, not after the many witch hunts, she has seen the world condone, and the one she was the target of herself. She could only grit her teeth while looking for a change in subject. She curiously began to wonder if Zatanna has run into these problems herself.

"Zee, you never really said anything about yourself last night. I feel like I still don't know anything about you."

"Well, what would you like to know?"

"Were you born with magick or did you have to learn it?"

"I was born with my powers, but I also learned a lot from my late father."

"I see, I guess there's something for all of us to learn."

The ladies moved on, walking out on to the street that was decorated from lamppost to lamppost with Halloween décor. There were quite a few children and parents about. Probably doing last minute shopping for the trick-or-treating, but naturally, it made the streets a little uncomfortable.

A white, black, and gold store caught the lady's attention; one with a more formal selection. The two columns in front of the door were white marble and were carved in the shape of palm trees, who's leaves held up the entrance. The store was specifically for women and held dresses and skirts for the grandest of occasions, but it also held more masculine wear for women, such as suits, vests, and oxfords.

Zatanna quickly went to the suits as Epithumia looked on in wonder at a section that slowly became magnetic. She walked in a state of awe into a world of black cocktail dresses, while Zatanna's voice grew distant.

"Oh my God, these are beautiful." She whispered to herself, tracing a finger along one of the straps.

Most of them were a little too short for her taste or had too many straps, but there was one that drew her unwavering attention. It wasn't a cocktail dress but rather a black swing dress, with a fitted top ending at the waistline and flaring down to the knee. It was sleeveless and held like a collar around the neck with a large heart shape as a display for the bust. She quickly found her size and rushed back giddily to where Zee was last seen.

"Zatanna! Look!"

Zee poked her head out from behind a rack with already quite a load on her shoulder.

"That's your style? Wow, I can appreciate that. It has a very jazzy look to it."

Epithumia put the dress up against her and spun around.

"Well go try it on!"

Coming out, the little witch couldn't help but crack a large smile while Zatanna couldn't hide her look of dissatisfaction.

"You need black hose."

"Excuse me?"

"Yep."

"Listen, I am not wearing anything scandalous. Besides, I think it looks fine." She started to double-check in the mirror to her left.

Zatanna started to pick out of her stack, "Just plain black hose, like these. And you'll need a hat."

Epithumia casts her a tired look as she enters the fitting room.

"A hat? Really?"

The morning sun was becoming more intense, as the afternoon approached. The two enchantresses had finished their shopping, leaving Zatanna with a dozen bags, and Epithumia with one. The bag the little witch held though, was empty as she sported proudly around in her new dress, black hose, and a very elaborate derby hat, who's broad rim and large slant brought character and a bit of vintage class.

"Ok Epi, I'm satisfied. Is there anywhere else you would like to go?" Zatanna asked considerately while pressing the button for the crosswalk.

Epithumia bit her lip. She might have had fun towards the end, but throughout most of their morning, she couldn't stop thinking about all those books Zatanna had brought in with her the night before. The covers were so elaborate, and their titles were written in cursive in shimmering golds and silvers. Zatanna had made the library sound so big and well-stocked that she couldn't get the thought of all that she could possibly find there out of her head.

She knew she would only be in town today and tomorrow, but that was plenty of time to read one book at least and return it before going home. She also knew that Zatanna was just there the other night, but with how excited she was, and how many books she had brought back with her, Epithumia thought, 'surely she wouldn't mind going back again today.'

"Actually Zee, I would love to visit that library that you spoke of last night. I know I could go myself some other time, but I was hoping to not have to go by myself."

The raven-haired lass tilted back her head in laughter to which Epi gave her a look befitting that of a small child who only meekly asked for candy.

The man's slender fingers clasped at his coffee mug, the steam of which wafted up into his face and softly kissed the lower rim of his glasses when he brought it to his lips. He finally rose up from the desk, he had been going through notes on all night and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had half a mind to call it quits and take a nap before the night was back, but his gaze fell onto his burlap sack, that was in a heap on the armchair, and a smile etched itself onto the corners of his mouth. Those slits. Those stitched eyes.


	6. A Capital Crime

The stain glass windows betrayed Epithumia's idea of a library, instead, she felt as if she had set foot in a holy place. The different shapes of color poured onto the many dark walnut shelves, crammed with volumes of any subject you could think of. The dark hardwood floors added an echo to her footsteps, but other than that, not a sound could be heard. In the middle of all the shelves, there started a grand staircase that spiraled up to the other three floors, and hanging down the middle from the dome, was a massive chandelier. Any direction she moved in, gave brilliant stars of rainbow to flash in its crystals.

"This place would make a king jealous." She carefully whispered to Zee, as the witch removed her hat for etiquette's sake.

Zatanna lead the mesmerized women to one of the computers.

"I'm not sure if you know this, but you can use these computers to find any book that this library holds. It will tell you the shelf and what letter the subject is under."

"I won't need it"- she whispered as the lights dazzled her eyes in childish astonishment – "I have the LCC system memorized."

"Wow, ok. Then have fun. I'll be over here on the computers."

The witch wandered away from her, no longer present in the same world, and began her method of scanning for her section. Not entirely sure what she felt like delving into this afternoon, her steps were slow and unsure as she did not fail to take every subject into consideration as they came into view.

Section B, the section of general philosophy, came into her attention, and just as suddenly, she knew which book, she wanted. Rushing over, her fingers started to trace the spines while her face was almost close enough to graze the dust. She passed other wonderful titles such as, "Letters From A Stoic", "A Treatise of Human Nature", and "Being and Time" looking for the one that she desired.

The book, in particular, that she was looking for, was a masterpiece. She had read it once before when she was in a bad rut with humanity. It opened her eyes to how the human race behaves in trying to live their life to the fullest. It touched on subjects regarding the human mind and its narcissism and hero complex. She believed, everyone wants to be the hero of their own story and be recognized as such by the people around them; everyone wants to feel special.

'What? I won't believe they don't have this book', she thought as she began running through the large section for a second time. 'Maybe it's scheduled to be checked in soon.'

"Excuse me, Ma'am. I'm looking for a book, but it's not on the shelf, and I was wondering if it was checked out."

"What's the title, Sweet pea?"

Epithumia had made her way back to the entrance where, behind the front desk sat a very plump, chipper, middle-aged woman with a bowl cut haircut. Her smile caused her eyes to scrunch up for her cheeks took over her face.

"It's called "The Denial of Death", by Ernest Becker."

The keys on her keyboard went clicking away, as the screen, reflected in her glasses, scrolled up.

"Sweet pea, I'm afraid the book is checked out." The woman's smile faltered a little.

"Is it due to be checked in soon?"

The woman took off her glasses and began to look uneasy.

"Dear, I'm afraid it says here that this book has been checked out by the same person for five years. I don't think it's going to be back any time soon. I'm surprised we still have it listed in our system. However, we have plenty of other books with similar content, or we can search for more books by the same author."

She began to go back to scrolling, expecting the witch to say yes, but she said nothing.

The librarian pressed her, "Sweat pea?"

Epithumia's eyes showed a fire that could burn steel, her fists were clenched, the knuckles white, and her lips pressed firmly together in a tight line.

"What is their name?"

"What?"

"What is the name of the lowlife that has kept that book for five years?" Epithumia's question was significantly louder the second go-around; the poor librarian pushed her swivel chair a little further back from the counter.

"I'm afraid that I can't give that information out. That would go against confidentiality."

Epithumia shoved away from the counter and stormed back over to the general philosophy section. Skimming once more she found where her book should be located and pushed aside the other books to make an opening on the shelf.

'I'll find that scoundrel myself.' She thought while rummaging in her satchel for her semita powder. Once found, she quickly wrote down the name of the book on a small shred of paper and placed it in the opening in the books. Then she dusted it with the pink powder, that popped and sizzled, as it ate away the paper and released a yellow waft of smoke in its stead.

'I absolutely love this stuff. It has never failed me to find anything', she grinned to herself as she leaned forward and took in the small smoke into her lungs. A bright string of light appeared only for her and zig-zagged around the shelf leaving behind a path for her to trail.

'I've got you now, asshole.'

He stretched, arching his back until it made a satisfying pop, and consulted his watch for the time, pleased to discover it was only 3 pm. Finishing the last sip of coffee, that was swirling in an incomplete ring, on the bottom of his mug, the slender man stood from his chair. Just as he did, there was a loud knock on the door.

The man frowned. This house was run-down and old. From the outside, it looked like it would be abandoned. It was an old bungalow, just outside of town hidden amongst a poor collection of houses, and that was the point, no one was supposed to think that anyone would be living here, much less come to the door knocking.

Paused and in thought, he knew none of his enemies would simply knock on the door, so he made up his mind to at least give whoever it was a chance to escape a confrontation with him. Then a woman's stern voice called out.

"I WILL keep coming back, so you might as well answer now."

'No, that won't bode well' he contemplated, 'I can't have too much traffic here. Someone might notice and there's already a chance that the neighbors have.' The man reached for the knob, 'I'm sure she has the wrong house anyways.'

Just on the other side of the door stood a young woman with long dark brown hair, a black dress, and a deep scowl on her face. Her hands were placed firmly on her hips as she looked him square in the eyes.

"I hope you know that you are despicable."

He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. This woman should have more common sense than to put her life in danger by knocking on his door and wagging a finger in his face. He had thought that she would have seen him and excused herself, but she spoke as if she knew exactly what she was doing and who she was talking to. The man couldn't think of any reason he would need to fight for her secrecy, but she was being a little too loud for his taste.

'Wait, it's her. It's that woman from the coffee shop.' A small smile rose to his lips, 'That's what she's talking about. I didn't think she'd come looking for me, much less find me. She was absolutely terrified when I left her there, but then again the human race always has a few idiots.'

"Tell me, my dear, what exactly are you planning to get out of this visit?" He was becoming amused and wanted to see if he could glimpse the fear rise in her eyes, once she stops and really thinks about what she's doing; who she's disturbing.

"I intend to retrieve the book you have carelessly stolen. I can't believe people like you exist, to ruin a free public service, given for the sole purpose of allowing knowledge, and resources, to be ready and available for those who need it. It's absolutely atrocious. You are atrocious." Her icy tone sent a chill through her words.

The small smile that was on his face shrunk until it was gone.

'What?' Was all he could think.


	7. Return to Sender

The woman puffed up her cheeks as she stared the man down.

'A book?' He couldn't immediately figure out what she meant. 'Free public system? The library?'

His face was no longer stoic, instead, his anger began to creep up on him, as he was overly annoyed.

"So, you mean to tell me, that the only reason you have turned up on my doorstep is to demand the return of a library book?"

"No, I have turned up on your doorstep to demand the return of a library book, that you have kept, for FIVE YEARS."

'This woman is obviously insane, not to mention has blinding anger issues. She may be a bi-polar as well.' He contemplated, as he began an inner analysis on her behavior with his calloused ideals.

He had finished 'dealing' with crazies like her a long time ago and saw no reason to accept new patients now. Besides, he preferred the business of making people go insane, to which he saw her needing no help with.

(Bang!) With no reason to continue conversing with her, he promptly slammed the door in her face. Obviously, he had better things to do, and she definitely wasn't going to contribute anything to his cause. The two large boxes in the hallway were filled to the brim with his books. Himself being a bookworm understood how important books can be, but this woman was a little out of her league, he had reasoned. He had plenty of books that were masterworks, but none he could think of, that would warrant this kind of behavior. The man put her out of his mind and decided to get ready for his nightlife, beginning to search through his unpacked suitcases.

There was a noise at his door that stopped him, and it wasn't knocking. It almost sounded like scratching, or no, more like writing. He quietly walked to his desk, keeping a constant eye on the door as the noises continued. The man slipped a vial of green liquid into his pants pocket and made no attempt to move, instead, he waited.

The door flung off its hinges and slid down the hall, stopping just short of the boxes of books, as the same woman walked in swiftly behind it. Her face had dropped its anger, and instead, the man saw, in its place, exhaustion.

"I'm not asking again."

The man showed no emotion for a moment, as he gathered his thoughts.

'A sorceress of some sort. I don't usually see their kind in Gotham often. This makes things a little more interesting and complicated, I suppose. I will just play along, after all, there is a fine line between courage and stupidity.' He straightened up and gave her a quaint smile.

"You'll have to excuse me, I haven't had time to clean, but by all means, make yourself at home. What is the title of the book you're looking for?"

"Don't bother yourself, I'll get it."

His brow twitched when she returned his sarcasm. It was very clear to him that she knew no bounds and would cross lines to get what she wants. What he couldn't understand, however, was if she remembered him, but that was almost impossible to entertain. He clearly remembered her face, and her watering, fearful eyes. There's no way she could forget. It only happened a few nights ago.

'Maybe it's not the same woman. After all, if the terrified woman I saw, backed into that chair in the corner, could have used magick, I wouldn't think she would have been trembling so much that night.'

The man took careful but casual steps towards her as he observed her pull out the book from one of the boxes. 'She didn't need help finding the book. I'll take note of that. I wouldn't doubt it if she has more powers than blowing open a door. She is either in a blind rage or she doesn't turn much thought to what people think.'

The woman then stood with the book in her hand and turned to him.

"Come on."

"Excuse me?"

"We're leaving."

"You have exactly what you came here for. I see no reason for me to be involved in this any further."

"You are going to come with me, to the Gotham Library, to check in this book so that I can check it out. That is how the system works, and we are going to use it. Now let's go."

The agitated man gritted his teeth. He stared hard at her wondering if this game should continue any further and wondering if he even had the emotional strength to last if it did. His hand slipped into his pocket and played with the vial. He could just end this right now. She would be screaming as much as Ryan Swelter did that night. However, he didn't know exactly what he'd do with her afterward and preferred her to not become a shrieking mess inside his place of hiding.

'I would like to try a social experiment anyways. I wonder how she'll act if I take her back to the coffee shop. Maybe then I'll get what I want. She should be begging for forgiveness by then in remembering how scared she was.' His fake smile slowly became genuine.

"Very well, my dear. Lead the way, but before we go, would you be so kind as to fix my door?"

He gestured to the door that had been lying in the hallway with a large chalk inscription on it and watched as she rolled her eyes and walked over. She bent down and wiped away the ward and once she had stood up she backed away saying, "Consummavi." The door, like a magnet, slid and clung back to the threshold, in its original state. He received a prideful smile from her as she started her way to the library.

They both went in and spoke with the same woman at the counter, who was surprised, to say the least, to see them and readily checked in the book and checked it out again.

The man watched as she immediately delve into that book, with the pages practically to her face. He walked calmly behind her, noticing that she no longer cared if he was still there; as if nothing had happened.

'At best she understands the importance of reading, though there are plenty of other characteristics she could improve on. In my professional opinion, how to open a door should be first in line.' He saw his opening and cleared his throat.

"Would you like to join me for coffee? I feel we started off on the wrong foot, and I would love nothing better than to set things straight"- He caught up to her and grinned –"The coffee will be on me, of course."

He watched as she stopped just inside the threshold of the entrance door, in which a woman had just walked through, and as she turned to address his question, the heavy door came back and smacked her so hard that she dropped her book and nearly fell herself.

'Wonderful, she's an idiot.'

After quickly collecting herself and grabbing the book she then smiled.

"That doesn't sound like too bad of an idea. Why not?"

"Beautiful. I know the perfect place."


	8. The Familiar Places

"This place! I can't believe it, I was just here a few nights ago…"

He watched her face light up, but he found himself furrowing his brow with frustration and confusion.

'So, I can rule out short term memory loss and mistaking her for another woman. Now all I have left is plain stupidity, though I feel as I've already gathered that.' Then an idea struck him, 'There is still the small possibility that she just doesn't know my alter ego, or what I look like under the mask.'

While his cogs kept grinding, she walked up to the counter and ordered a hot chocolate. The barista was mildly polite and bland until the shadow of the slender figure walked up behind her. The man caught the employee's immediate attention and he saw his mouth fall open in horror.

"She will be on my bill this evening, Mr. Coney."

"Dr. Crane! O-of c-course sir! This is s-such a surprise. It will b-be on the h-house, Ma'am."

The woman failed to notice the alarm, but rather she looked pleasantly surprised.

"You never said you were treating me to a free drink. I'm guessing you know Mr. Brundy?"

"Yes. Although I've only known Mr. Brundy for a short time, he has been kind enough to _help_ me out when I come to call."

"It's always grand to have friends of that nature."

"Indeed, it is."

The drinks were ready in no time at all, and once they both had them, he gestured her to the booth in the far back of the shop, so they wouldn't be disturbed. She slid in and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, as he sat down opposite of her.

"Dr. Crane, I apologize for my lack of manners earlier, but now that we seem to be setting things straight, I would like to formally introduce myself." She offered her hand across the table, to which he gave a firm handshake. "Epithumia Bashem, but my friends call me Epi."

'That's a very unusual name. It almost sounds Middle Eastern,' He noted.

He put on a face to match his venomous charm. "Dr. Jonathan Crane. Do you mind if I address you as Ms. Bashem?"

"By all means."

The conversation died and noticeably her attention with it, as she began to silently look about the room. The doctor, however, didn't take his eyes off her for a minute, taking down every detail of what she did. He recognized that she knew not of his glare or the large fact that he hadn't taken a single sip of his coffee.

'A.D.H.D. perhaps, although she has the carelessness down, I feel that's not it. She hasn't touched her phone if she even has one on her. Might be an indication that she's not technology savvy or is detached from communication.'

'_I remember how it felt._'

'She's also not watching anyone, or focusing on anything in the room, in particular, even though she's not paying attention to me, for her eyes are not shifting at all.'

'_His eyes could have burned through me._'

'Might indicate she has tendencies to daydream. If it's maladaptive daydreaming, that would explain her short attention span and lack of attention to her surroundings.'

'_He stood just over that counter._'

'I can recognize she is undereducated in social cues; not just in the fact that she has failed to notice my stare, but also in failing to notice the barista's change in demeanor earlier.'

His eyes slowly trailed down from her face.

'There is dirt under her fingernails, possibly gardens or participates in outdoor activities. Can't be sports though, for her arms don't show the muscle result, and from what I saw of her earlier, her legs don't show it either.'

'_He was right there.'_

'Her skin is very pale, so she must not get in the sun often, for there is not even a red tint indicating short exposure.'

His eyes found their way back up to her face with one question still left unanswered. Clearing his throat, he reached for a foundation to start with.

"I was actually pleased to know that you've been here before. A few nights ago, was it? I heard that The Scarecrow had caused an incident around the same time. I hope you weren't apart of that nasty business."

Epithumia coughed on the sip she had taken and was nothing short of amazed.

"That's his name?! I'm so glad you know! When the police arrived, they seemed less concerned and wouldn't give me any information. They didn't even write down a police report! Then again, I've caught on that this is a crime-ridden city."

Crane was almost at a loss for words, while his mind began to buzz with questions.

'She didn't even know of Scarecrow. The only conclusions I can draw from that are she must either be a hermit, she's from a 'far' out of town, or she doesn't watch the news. Hell, she might be all three.'

He found himself gritting his teeth, overly offended that she had never heard of him before. His entire life's work revolved around striking fear into the whole of humanity. Everyone this side of the country should know his name, and yet here he sat with a woman that hadn't the slightest clue of who she was talking to.

'Even if she's all three, she must read newspapers, hear by word of mouth, or SOMETHING.'

Crane was starting to grow dangerously troubled as he reached back into his pocket, his fingers playing with that vial.

'She should FEAR me. I shouldn't even NEED to baby her like this. Just one drop of this and she will be writhing, screaming, gouging her eyes out. Then she'll know. I know she'll realize who I am then.'

His grip became tighter around the vial as his face began to show his malice.

"Dr. Crane, are you ok?" She softly asked him with a look of concern towards his clenched fist on the table.

Her voice seemed to bring him to reasoning, as the change in mood had become apparent, and as he blinked, he released his hold on the vial and cautiously pulled his hand from his pocket.

"Forgive me, I take it you are not from around here."

"No, I'm just visiting for Halloween."

That was all she gave him, as an answer, to which he felt was rather strange. He had expected that she'd mention where she's from, family, and who she's here with, but she gave him the scrape of it.

'It looks as though I've made her uncomfortable. Oh well, it can't be helped.'

The doctor turned on his fake charm and smiled apologetically as he gave her the means to escape.

"I realize it is getting late and you probably have things to do, but I would like to be able to see you again if that's alright. I'm not lying when I say that I find you fascinating."

Crane saw a small hint of sorrow pass her eyes, as she put down her now empty mug.

"As much as I would love to become further acquainted, I fear I am not going to be in town much longer. I have a tendency to distance myself from others, but I'm sure you are a joy to be around, so don't take it personally."

'That's it. That is the key. Anthropophobia.'

"Oh, of course not my dear. I do understand, and I will say I wish you well."

"Thank you, and just as sure I wish the same for you."

They both stood and as she reached her hand out for another handshake, the doctor took it and cleverly flipped it over and brought it to his lips. He savored how poorly she tried to hide her discomfort as he planted a kiss on her knuckles. As she composed herself and headed to the door, he stood with his hands behind his back, watching her leave.

There was another soul watching their exchange from the booth towards the front, though. He had gone unnoticed as he had his eyes and harsh frown, fixed on them the entire time. However, as soon as Epithumia had left unharmed, he settled back and combed his fingers through his red and white hair, sighing with frustration.


	9. Demon's Deal

She knocked on the door, and quickly straightened herself up, pulling all her hair to one side, off her shoulder, and wiggling the top of her dress to readjust her bust. She had come straight from the coffee shop to Jason's door. The ritual was tonight, and it was just about time.

The small witch found herself wringing her hand, the same hand Dr. Crane had kissed. It whirled through her head on how odd he was, quirky he had seemed, and how uncomfortable it made her, for him to just offer a gesture like that out of the blue. He hadn't acted interested in her, there were no typical courtship questions like favorite color or favorite food, and she hadn't given him any false hope. Though confused, she soon thought it best to put him out of her mind.

'After all' -she reasoned while she glanced down at the library book- 'I'll be heading home soon.'

She knocked again when no one answered the door.

'Why isn't he coming to the door?'

"Jason?" She called out.

"Yes?"

"GOOD GODS!"

She could have jumped out of her skin, nearly throwing her book at him, as he stepped out of the shadow of the hallway behind her. She laughed, amused that he was able to stealthily sneak up on her like that.

"Jace, what on earth? You could have given me an aneurism."

Epi playfully squeezed his arm while chuckling, but curiously enough, his expression did not change. He almost looked on her with grief in his eye, as he pulled out his key to open the door for them.

"I'm glad you're here Epi, I would like to talk to you."

"Of course, Jace. What about."

He went through the typical ritual of pouring them both a glass and sat with her in front of the fire.

"I see no reason to go into this delicately, Epi. I happened to be at 'Grinding Days' just now, and I saw you were with someone."

"Oh, that was Dr. Crane. I retrieved a book from him earlier and he wanted to get coffee."

Jason almost winced at the name and maintained a look of disgust. Having lived in Gotham for quite a while, he knew that name well and knew the evil attached to it. He calmly took another sip of his wine, doing his best to remain expressionless, for he had already pieced together that she knew nothing of this man, and he didn't expect her to.

"How did the two of you meet? If you don't mind me asking."

Epithumia smiled awkwardly and had begun to fidget with the skirt of her dress, regretfully remembering when she blew open his door.

"Well, I had heard that he had a specific book that I wanted, and when I asked to borrow it, he readily obliged. He said he's a friend of Mr. Brundy's."

Jason's eye twitched.

"Really now?"

"Yes! The barista was so welcoming and gave us our drinks for free. I was actually pleased to know he turned out to be a friend of a friend."

"Please be careful around him Epi."

"You don't have to worry Jace"-she set her glass down- "I understand that you don't trust the people here, but I'm leaving tomorrow, and have no intention of seeing him again. Besides, he was a gentleman, and I didn't feel threatened."

"I am grateful for that at least."

Jason notably glanced at the clock on the mantle and put on a bitter smile. It was already 6 PM, and he knew that the daylight would be fading fast.

"There is also one more thing."- he stood and collected the empty glasses – "I won't be here to help with the ritual."

"What do you mean? This is all we've been preparing for. I'm sure we could really use your know-how, Jace."

When he saw the sheer disappointment on her face, sprinkled with confusion, he knew he had to make her understand. Jason didn't want this any more than she did, and he could only regret not telling her sooner.

"I have failed to mention something, for which I do apologize. Tonight, is Halloween, the one night where ghosts, demons, and powers of the arcane are stronger. There was a deal made with the demon Etrigan a long time ago, that he would have free rein over this night. So, naturally, I am honor-bound to release him."

"I won't stand in your way", she sighed as she stood and distanced herself from him, mentally preparing herself for a creature who laughed at pain and reveled in chaos.

"I am sorry, I have to summon him now, Epithumia. You are one of the few that know how to handle him though, and so I'm trusting you to hold your own."

The small smile, he had been waiting to see, tugged on her lips as he looked to the clock realizing it was time. He centered himself in front of the fireplace and readied his chant.

"Gone, gone the form of man. Arise the demon Etrigan!"

The fireplace was snuffed out as swift as a match, and all the lights with it, making the only light in the room the flames that were now lashing out and up Jason Blood's legs. He growled and snarled as the veins in his eyes grew and spread until they consumed his iris and pupal in red. The flames clawed their way higher, and as he hunched over, his clothes changing in the heat to reds and a large torn blue cloth to pass as a cape. A peal of deep laughter began to echo from the form, as it's skin yellowed and its fangs grew. The flames were finally whisked away leaving a creature whose monstrous smile faintly glowed with the fire trapped in its throat. He erected himself and slowly turned to the corner where Epithumia stood unphased.

"That damned man was a fool to leave you here with me. He must know I can take you, and I can break you, so easily."

The giant hell spawn lumbered towards her with an evil chuckle.

"Yes Etrigan, it's good to see you too."

He bellowed a loud laugh and spit a bright, hot ember into the fireplace, lighting it once more.

"Thy puny act of bravery is wasted on me. You'd fit the bill, for this hunger to fill, so maiden you are lucky I like thee."

"Ooo, very charming. What's your plan for the night?" She sarcastically inquired.

"Needn't any plans, they carry chains. Reservations are a waste, when I crash the place, and take to smashing brains."

"Wouldn't do that Etrigan. The last time you harmed anyone you weren't supposed to, Jason nearly kept you concealed for five years. Remember that?"

"Yes, that worm does what he can, to lock away poor Etrigan."

The witch rolled her eyes to his sly and cheeky attitude while she walked over to the window that showed the gleaming city at seven stories. She opened it wide and gestured to Etrigan, hoping to usher him out.

"I know how much you hate doors, so by all means, don't let me keep you."

Etrigan's grin didn't falter as he slowly and steadily walked to the window. Epithumia knew he was taking his time to irk her, so she crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. She had time to spare. He put his clawed hand onto the window frame and leaned close to her, swiftly and loudly filling his nostrils with her scent. She groaned in disgust while pushing him back.

"Then again, it's not often I have you alone. I think instead, I could take you to bed. I'd have your curves all for my own."

"Sorry Gruesome, but you're DEFINITELY way too much of a gentleman for me."

He breathed his rotting breath on the top of her head, chuckling, and cunningly whipped his hand around her, slapping her ass, before jumping out the window, laughing.

"Ugh! Bastard!"

The demon's laugh faded into the night, leaving the infuriated woman to slam the window shut.


	10. Hallow's Eve

"That shithead did what?!"

Zatanna whirled around and proceeded to fume openly, as Epithumia regaled her with the story of Etrigan's earlier mischief. The enchantress was obviously not too keen on where his hand had ended up on Epithumia, even for only a second.

The night of the ritual was upon them as the two were preparing for the magick to come. Zatanna was drawing the massive sigil just before the fireplace, while Epithumia gathered the books that, the chants needed, would be recited from, and placed bowls of reagents upon pedestals that fell into the circumference of the sigil. They had started soon after seven and were just now perfecting the final touches while cleaning up.

"Jason had no right to subject you to that encounter, and I will be damned if I don't tell him that myself."

Epithumia set the last bowl down and began to help Zatanna move the loveseat and matching chairs back and away from the circle's edge.

"Zee, I promise it's no big deal. Etrigan and I have danced this dance many times before. We all know that he has no intentions other than to get a rise out of me."

They both went to unplug the lamps and move the side tables, that they were on, out of the way.

"Epi, that sure as hell is not an excuse for that kind of behavior, and you should NEVER let a man, woman, or demon put their hands on you like that if you don't want them to. There are just some lines that no one should not be allowed to cross."

The witch nodded in a feeling of guilt, that she knew she shouldn't have, but was looming over her regardless. Her memory began to jerk away her attention, as she remembered a centuries year old man that had turned her into what she was. She shivered as if his filthy hands had come back to greedily and lustfully claw at her skin and slide themselves along her pride like slime and gunk. Epithumia, disgusted, shoved the trauma off the movie screen of her brain and forced a smile.

"You're right Zee. Thank you."

The women then stood back and looked over their work, making sure that everything was as it should be, before looking to the clock for the time. Zatanna sighed with relief.

"We did great. Everything is ready and we still have quite a bit of time before the last master arrives."

"Who exactly is this master?" Epithumia couldn't help but inquire while her hands found her library book and began to open its pages.

"Girl, you might as well have asked for the number of stars in the galaxy." The raven-haired mage sat down in the other chair matching Epithumia's.

"His name is Kent Nelson, but you won't be seeing much of him. This man is bound to a force much like Jason Blood is bound to Etrigan. Who you'll be speaking to is a lord of order, named Nabu."

"What's a lord of order?"

"I promise I'll more explain later, as it's a lot to swallow. All you need to know right now is Nabu is basically a god of good, and he inhabits a helm. Whoever puts on this helm will become possessed by the Spirit of Nabu, as Dr. Fate, and will perform the god's duties in order to keep the universe in balance."

Epithumia opened her mouth with a question, but fell silent as a dot of yellow light appeared by the bookcase and stretched itself out into the shape of an ankh, and out of it stepped a man clothed in blue and gold holding a black teapot in his hands. His very appearance was staggering as his helmet made him look as though he had a permanent scowl, and his boots never touched the floor as he remained in a state of suspended hovering. The man's gold usekh collar flashed a slice of brilliant light as he began to slowly glide over to where the two women sat.

"The night is ripe. We must commence with the ritual before the moon ceases to show her face."

Even his voice was hollow, commanding, and sounded as if two men were speaking the same sentence in an echo. The first voice was like that of a god, deep and firm, while the one that echoed was soft and distant; almost a whisper.

He summoned an empty pillar to rise and place itself in the center of the sigil and placed the black teapot upon it with infant-like care. The two women glanced at each other and rose from their comfort to join him in their place around the circle. They bypassed greeting and introduction, respecting that this night was serious and perfection here was necessary for peace.

Epithumia had handed Zatanna her book that held the lines she was to recite and took her own book to her spot while Dr. Fate refused his book, for his lines he had long memorized. Everyone took a handful of the reagents from the bowls that were on the pillars beside them and sprinkled them in an arm's length circle around themselves. With the circles completed, the entire sigil before them lit up in brilliant hues of cool and dark colors, and a ribbon for each magick wielder twisted out from the sides of the teapot and wrapped around their necks.

The witch gulped in anxiety as the ribbon of light was rather tight and nervously watched on as Zatanna spoke her Latin incantations.

"Quod magicae incipiam. Nos opprimere statera. quemquam prohibere de magicis beginning."

Tighter grew the ribbons of light around Epithumia's neck and she began to feel dizzy as Zatanna continued on. The ribbons then changed into colors matching the colors of the souls of each individual present. Zatanna's turned light blue, Epithumia's yellow, and Kent's, since it was still his body, into a lime green.

Zee looked to Epithumia as it was her turn to recite. The witch was practically trembling as her mind began to flash scenes of all that could go wrong, but she swallowed her nerves and took a deep breath.

"Prohibere ad inferos non habet potestatem. Quid facimus ligaveris malum? Deos flebit, terra tremit, verba ligare."

All of the multiple colors of light turned into a harsh white that flared into mystic flames. The light traced every rune and climbed the ribbon to their necks, but instead of burning it kissed her throat with a soft chill.

Unfortunately, once Epithumia began her next line there was a loud explosion from outside. The whole room shuttered horrifically, and the witch's words became nothing more than a lump in her throat. The disturbance didn't last long, and the vibrating soon subsided. Epithumia remained paused, nervously glancing at the other two for direction, when another loud explosion, more devastating than the first, rumbled and rocked through the floor.

Books fell from shelves, lamps shattered, and the lights threatened to fail. Both Zee and Epi had fallen, but Fate did not falter as he hovered amidst the chaos. The column holding the teapot toppled, however when Fate managed to suspend the pot in mid-air, one of the pillars, holding a bowl beside him, knocked into him hard as it came crashing. The teapot flung across the room and shattered against the far wall.

Zatanna, Epithumia, and Fate all sat up and prepared themselves as a black, tarlike substance oozed down from the place where the black china pot had shattered. It bubbled and spat, making its way across the room and growing. The black mass then rose and screamed while it writhed almost painfully into a humanoid shape. The scream sent everything else in the room toppling. Both chairs went flying back, the nightstand holding Epithumia's library book violently landed with a bang, and pictures that hung in several parts of the room fell to the floor, scattering glass into every corner of the room.

Dr. Fate aimed and began firing off magick towards the entity, but each shot passed through it without a scratch. Zatanna rose and started to command objects to fly at the thing, but that too showed no effect.

"You have no place here, in the mortal realm." Dr. Fate's commanding voice boomed. "Return now to Hell, Durratein!"

The demon cracked its neck, laughed, and in an inhuman speed, whisked himself to Dr. Fate and grinned as he slowly lifted him up. Fate struggled, but with no results as every punch and every shot of magick passed through him like light through a window. The beastly thing put its nasty lips close to Fate's face and proclaimed in a taunting and high-pitched rasp, "It was almost you."

Throwing Fate onto Zatanna and Epithumia, the demon lurched to the window and scraped its long claws against the glass on its way out.


	11. Powerless

The bottles loudly clanged together while being shoved, one at a time, into a bottomless bag. Epithumia's hands were trembling as she hurriedly cleaned her shelves of salts, particular herbs, and demonology books.

"I'm missing something." She breathed nervously.

She anxiously glanced around the almost ransacked cellar hoping to get an idea of what else she could possibly need.

After the group had searched the immediate area for the escaped demon, they all had decided to prepare for war. Zatanna had been kind enough to teleport Epithumia home so the witch could get her supplies and tomes. She had plenty of tools to aid their efforts, for ghosts, spirits, and demons were her forte, and if they were to catch a demon, they would need more than some mere holy water.

"What are you looking for?" Squawked a large black bird that had been perched comfortably on the stair railing watching her struggle.

Epithumia moaned and stamped her foot like a child, overreacting in an unprofitable fit, and looked his way with annoyance on her face.

"Drine, do you remember where I put Ruban D'argent?"

The palm cockatoo squawked in a manner that could only be heard as laughter. Epithumia clenched her teeth. The bird had a fiendish knack for toying with his mistress's progress, and she made it a habit to never take him seriously, but that didn't imply that she never thought about one day clamping her hand around that small little neck of his and shaking him silly. After all, she knew better than to treat him as just a regular cute talking parrot.

"I order you to tell me, Drine."

Drine dramatically cocked his head, almost looking at her upside down as his large black crest rose.

"You put it under your bed, Dummy. You better hurry, hurry."

She rushed over to him and offered her arm. As soon as he stepped up, she ran up the cellar stairs and then up the main stairs to the second floor. The long box was there just as he had said covered in two inches of dust. As she slid the box out, she yelled down to Zatanna, who had been waiting so patiently in the parlor.

"Zee I'm set! Let's go."

The two masters and Epithumia, along with Drine, all gathered back at Jason's residence. The group was careful not to touch anything as if it were a crime scene, for there were plenty of questions left, that needed answers, fast.

"Durratein will already be searching for the extension vessel, and with enough diligence, he'll find it soon." (see chapter 2) Dr. Fate declared grimly.

"What exactly is he searching for then?" The witch worriedly inquired.

Zatanna placed a hand on her shoulder, and in a serious tone informed her, "That's what we have yet to find out."

"We do know that it's a person."- Fate turned back to them from observing the pentagram –"When Durratein was sealed away, there was a condition spell placed on his vessel. If the vessel housing him were to be broken, like it was tonight, his demonic power would be divided between himself and his savior, this condition would prevent the demon from arising all-powerful immediately, and prevent anyone from releasing him on their own accord."

Fate clenched his fist, looking determined- "However, while I was the one to break the vessel, I for some unforeseen reason couldn't touch him. I should have been able to wound him if I shared his demonic energy."

Epithumia's forehead creased with confusion, not sure what exactly all of this meant, as Zee moved around her, heading in the direction of Jason's desk.

"Well, guys there is one source Jason left me to turn to."

She pulls out a large manuscript from a safe just under the desk chair, and as she plops it down a cloud of dust and time plumes up from out of its pages. As Zatanna began to comb through Epithumia and Fate quietly gathered in close.

"This was written soon after Durratine was sealed away the first time." Zatanna began to explain.

The text was barely legible as it had been worn to such a degree that they all struggled, but Epithumia had a quick fix for such a dilemma. Her hands found a magnifying glass in one of the drawers, and she breathed upon it a sweet and gentle spell into its eye. With its new glowing glass, it instead became a window to clearly see the text.

The document told of a demon who rose up the ladder of power in Hell. He did not earn his titles, but rather used the doors and gates between worlds to enforce his influence. When he had snuck and slithered to all of their hinges and locks only to throw them wide open, he had caused Heaven, Hell, Earth, and Limbo to mingle and clash in a hungry war that lasted for centuries.

In breaking the veils, boundaries, and rules of the physical and spiritual plains, he wished only to bring the mighty and great alike to their graves and wait for the time when he would step in the rule of the weak and battered that would have been left after. With a new king and a new people, he'd start a new era.

However, as the tides of blood pooled, one man saw past the war straight to the real source of corruption and rallied the last of the human race to charge. Durratine was exposed and sealed under the hand of a mage named Favngar.

Favngar had tricked the demon with a trap and sapped half of his power. Once Durratine was safely sealed away, the mage released the rest of the power into the form of a spell that would shroud and cloak the vessel, as the demon could only be defeated and locked away using his own power.

Unfortunately, not a soul could have guessed that the power would be absorbed by whomever, would be unfortunate enough, to unleash the demon from his prison. They would ultimately become the hell spawn's next prey, as he will seek to take back what's his.

Zatanna was reading the pages aloud as the group sought answers, but after a few chapters, they still hadn't stumbled upon what they really needed.

"Maybe the answers are more towards the end, Zee." Epithumia piped in encouragingly.

The mage took the suggestion and flipped to the back of the manuscript, but nothing went beyond the actual seal of the ritual.

Drine began to laugh as he was finding the whole situation, that his mistress and her cohorts were stuck in, very amusing. Epithumia scowled at his negative behavior and reached up to him, where he sat perched on her shoulder, and plucked a down feather out from his chest, hoping to silence him. The mad bird squawked furiously and flew from her to the back of one of the dining room chairs.

"If all you're going to do is be negative, then I will send you back home, Drine."

The bird raised his crest, fluffed up, and spread his wings in a taunting manner as the group went back to the matter at hand.

"I'll start by looking into the explosion." – Dr. Fate asserted while stepping back from the ladies- "Zatanna, you'd do best to continue examining that manuscript, and Epithumia, you"-

"None of that will be necessary, Fate."

The entire group turned with a start and Drine began to squawk loudly. Jason stood by the pentagram looking disheveled.

"I can only guess that Durratine escaped, by the look of things, but I can already tell you who has his power."

Jason then held up Epithumia's library book. It had a lite coat of chalk on the cover that could clearly be connected to the one scuffed up piece of the sigil, that no one had noticed. He opened the cover, for all of them, to an old library card littered with names, and on the bottom, was one name that looked as if it had water damage; barely able to be made out.

Jason looked up to all of them, "We need to find Jonah Rance."


	12. The Name of No One

The library book had fallen from one of the side tables, and had slid over three of the outside runes of the sigil. Jason had returned just as the masters and Epithumia were seeking answers, to find the book on top of the runes representing power. He casually opened the cover to see a list of names, and only one of them with mysterious water damage. The name read Jonah Rance.

"This is who has half of Durratine's powers."

Jason plopped the open book down on the desk, that everyone was gathered around, and pulled his laptop out from underneath the centuries-old manuscript, that they were turning through.

"Obviously we need to find Mr. or Ms. Rance before that demon does, unfortunately, we are racing against the clock. Even though Durratine only knows this person about as much as we do, he can track down his own powers like a dowsing rod to water."

Jason looks directly at Epithumia in recognizing that this was the same book she had earlier that day, "Epi, do you have any idea who this is?"

The little witch shakes her head. "No. That's the book that I got from Jonathan Crane."

Zatanna face goes sour in an instant, "Excuse me?!"

Jason sighs heavily while opening his laptop, "Zee, it's under control, so please, not right now."

He opens up the website for the Gotham Library and hands the computer off to Zatanna, who still was trying to calm herself.

"Zee, you are clairvoyant, aren't you? Can you go through the library's database and find a face and address to this name?"

The mage refused the laptop. "I can but I will have to go to the library and use their computers."

"I will go with her to ensure she is not interrupted." Fate pitched in as the two of them quickly and quietly made their exit, leaving Jason, Drine, and Epithumia to search out more options.

The morning sun's rays were starting to burn brightly through the curtains as the time had rolled to 7:50 am. Jason had exhausted the computer's search engines for the name, only to pull up people who were very unlikely to be who they were looking for. They found men and women alike with the first and last name; not having a middle name to work with. Most of them lived on the other side of the country, and the internet showed the obituaries for the others. Still, the name was proving difficult to trace.

"We are running out of time Epithumia."

Jason looked stretched and drained as he turned to her and pointed at the book in her hand.

"Give me the book. I can only think of one other thing to do, but it's going to send me into a deep sleep for a few days."

Epithumia snatched the book from out of his reach looking terrified, to say the least.

"No! Jason, I know you are eager to find answers, but Zee and Fate haven't even returned yet. We should wait and see if they have found something first." – she places a gentle hand on his shoulder- "For now, I feel you should get some rest. You look a little worse for wear."

"Absolutely not Epi, not while there is a humanitarian threat loose in the world like this. I am not just going to fall asleep and leave questions unanswered to a powerful demon's capture and banishing!"

His voice had gotten louder and louder until he was practically yelling. The frightened witch had never seen her friend like this before. Normally Jason was conserved and thoughtful to his words and actions, but he hadn't left much guessing room to how upset and frustrated he was.

Epithumia reached out to try to calm and comfort him, but he wearily brushed her hand away and stood from the couch. The dramatic change in mood was beginning to catch up with her as she watched him stare into the fireplace. Jason had been her friend for a very long time, and she had always found comfort and peace in his presence. She had looked to him as a father, brother, and friend all this time that to have him so openly reject her and yell in her face crippled her heart in that moment. Her eyes began to sting, and everything blurred when her tears threated to escape from her eyes. She quietly hung her head down in hopes of hiding her emotions, fearing that they might make the situation worse.

Drine squawked and flew to Epithumia's shoulder, "You're a stupid man. Suggesting to put yourself to sleep but refusing to sleep."

"Don't be rude, Drine." Epithima hissed.

It wasn't long before Zee and Fate returned after that. They had pulled an address from the name from the computers, but it only led them to what used to be a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. It had no residence and didn't look as if it had been occupied in years.

"We figured that the address given to the library just hadn't been updated for a while," Zatanna informed.

Jason shook his head; the look of exhaustion in his eyes becoming more impossible to miss.

"We should have done this from the beginning."

He takes the book from Epi's hands and begins to wipe up the failed chalk sigil from the floor. After replacing the circle with a large star of Latin, he takes a hand mirror and places it next to him in the star with the name torn off of the library card.

Zatanna steps forward. "Jason, what is this?"

"I am doing an oracle spell to find this soul."

"Jason you can't do that. You'll be in bed for days!"

"It's the only real option we have left."

Zatanna storms over and practically wrangles the strip of paper out of Jason's hand, as he had failed to keep the paper away from her.

"I'm tired of you always taking it upon yourself to be the scapegoat, the fool, or the errand boy. You're not doing this. I'm doing it instead."

"Zatanna you can't be serious. Your magick is the most powerful we have. We will need you."

"Jace, how do you expect any of us to do this without you? You are the only one among us that knows anything about Durratine. If something fails, we will be without answers and doomed, so if we need anyone it's you. Now get out of my way, we are wasting time."

He sat there looking reluctant, in a perfect picture of a child being asked to get up and clean his room by his overbearing and towering mom, but he did get up, and as soon as he did Zatanna filled his spot in the center of the star.

She immediately started to chant and with one hand holding the name, she dipped her free hand into the mirror as if it were only water. Her eyes lit up in a glowing blue, as the Latin words began to move in the lines of the crisscrossed star. The mage's raven hair began to whip up in a gust provided by the energy of the star, and her chanting became louder as the liquid mirror bubbled and steamed as if boiling hot. Then in an instant, the chanting stopped sending a pulse of silence and stillness through the entire room.

Zatanna's eyes fell shut and she swayed sending Epithumia to rush over and provide support before her head hit the ground. The witch pulled the stray hair from her face and lightly shook her as she called her name, but Zee was already unconscious.

The gentlemen had rushed over along with Epithumia and while Jason retrieved the hand mirror Fate scooped up Zatanna and laid her down on the couch; Epi swiftly joining her.

"Is she okay Fate?" She asked in almost a whisper watching him press a hand to Zee's forehead.

"She is stable. It's normal for the spell to simultaneously leave the caster drained."

The little witch found herself smiling in relief at her friend's safety and finally turned to Jason, noticing that he had yet to say anything.

He had the mirror in hand, but he was not looking into its glass, rather he was looking towards her, and wore a look of regret.

"What is it, Jace? What do you see?"

He chuckled as if laughing at his own luck and turned the mirror for her to see. The glass showed only her reflection. Epi couldn't understand what she was looking at, and for a fleeting second wondered if the spell had failed.

"What does this mean Jace?"

He threw the mirror to the ground at his feet, causing the glass to shatter and Epithumia to flinch.

"It either means the person we are looking for is dead, or the name given is a nickname and not the actual name of whoever used it. Either way we may already be damned to Hell."


	13. It Was You

**Chapter 13****:**

It Was You

"I'm going back to the library"

"Epithumia we've only just returned, what do you intend to do differently?"

"Did you talk to anyone when you went, Fate?"

"The computers would have any information that the library could provide us." -Fate stood, having been knelt by Zatanna's sleeping form- "Asking an employee will do nothing."

"I don't believe that's true. If someone knows something, anything, then that will be more information that we don't have now."

The witch hurried to the door, Drine's squawks were shrill and loud as he flew to her shoulder, and they were both gone before either of the men could follow or protest.

The library's quiet was immediately broken when the witch's heavy and fast footfall burst through the front doors.

"Miss! What on earth?! If you are coming in here to cause a disturbance again, then I will have to ask you to leave immediately!"

The Librarian at the front counter hastily stood from her chair to warn Epithumia who now leaned against the counter, out of breath. It was the same plump, middle-aged woman, with the bowl haircut, from yesterday, and she appeared to remember this little witch clearly.

"Listen up, Chubs, my mistress running through the door was a lot quieter than your yelling."

The woman's cheeks reddened as she glared at the seemingly amused cockatoo.

"And we don't allow animals in here, Miss."

"Shut up, Bowl Head." – he puffed up his black plumage to make himself look bigger. - "As far as you're concerned, I'm a fucking service animal."

"Drine, that is enough!" – Epithumia snapped at him, causing him to flutter to the top of her hat, seeking to avoid punishment. "I am so sorry about him, really I am, but I am in desperate need of your help. I'm looking for someone."

The woman straightened her winged glasses and settled herself back down.

"Sweet Pea, I told you last time that I can't divulge information of that kind to you; it would be a direct violation of the code of confidentiality."

Epi, at this point, was overly exhausted. She didn't have enough energy to be frustrated, instead she found herself pleading.

"Listen, I don't expect you to understand, but the life of the person I'm looking for is in danger. You don't have to look up anything on the computer or search through any files, I just want to know if you know who Jonah Rance is, or if you've checked out a book to them before."

The librarian looked visibly perplexed and shook her head replying, "If this is a joke, I must say that I'm failing to find it funny. What do you mean they are in danger, and if so, why are you coming to me?"

"Just answer the damn question!"

The bird had nearly screeched out, causing the poor woman to jump and almost tip over in her wheeled seat.

"I don't know what exactly you're asking! Jonah Rance was the gentleman you came in with, the other day, to return the book!"

"That man's name was Jonathan Crane, not Jonah Rance."

"THAT WAS JONATHAN CRANE?!"

Now the librarian was the one causing a disturbance in the echoing space as she stood up in a fluster. She couldn't be more shaken.

The witch was at a loss for what to do, while she momentarily stared; lost in her thought process, but she soon found herself sprinting back out the door. She could hear the librarian yelling after her.

"IF EITHER ONE OF YOU COMES BACK HERE, I'LL CALL THE POLICE!"

She couldn't retaliate or ask the woman why she would turn to the police, as she couldn't stop or slow down. There were many things that didn't make sense, but she did not let herself linger on that. The witch chose to focus on the fact that there was a power-hungry hell spawn loose, and as she now had some sort of an answer and direction, she needed to run with what she had.

The opening for the subway station came into view just past a corner. Epithumia rushed through the closing doors, just making the 8:30 am train, which was packed to the brim with people.

She grabbed onto a pole in a huff, not even being phased by the vast number of people, all huddled on the car; she was too distracted with worry.

Drine was happy to stay at the top of her hat to avoid the suffocating cluster of people, while the witch nervously watched the interactive map, near the front of the car. It had a single red dot lit up to represent the train and where it was and where it will be. She couldn't help but bite her lip in anticipation, for she had no idea what to expect.

Suddenly, she remembered her phone and pulled it out to call Jason, knowing that she would not be able to handle a demon of this strength on her own, but to her dismay, the call went to voicemail.

'I'll just have to take Jonathan to him.'

The house's windows were dark as she rushed up and pounded her fist on the door. Drine mockingly whistled, as if calling a dog, in the brief moment when there was nothing but silence, before the door opened and Jonathan stood there before her, with only curiosity on his continence.

Before he could say a word, she pushed past him into the house and began rummaging through her satchel for her chalk.

"I would like to say that this is a pleasant surprise, but it's not exactly pleasant and I fear this might become a regular occurrence with you."

She turns to him with a huge stick of pink sidewalk chalk in hand and Drine flew from her hat to perch on the back of the couch, "Believe me, I would have informed ahead of time if I had a way of contacting you."

"Is the bird potty trained?"

The cockatoo took flight once more and fluttered threateningly right by Jonathan's face, landing on the windowsill just to the right of the front door.

"I'm perfectly trained to shit on your head."

Epithumia ignored their exchange and, starting in the living room, began to draw on the walls in symbols and runes. Jonathan quickly slammed the door shut and rushed over to grab her arm.

"What in God's name are you doing?"

His voice wasn't raised, but it was firm as he held her wrist and spun her around to face him.

"I have a better question. What is your actual name?"

"Excuse me?"

"The name that they have for you at the library is Jonah Rance. So, is your name Jonathan Crane or Jonah Rance?"

"The name at the library is one of my aliases. My name is Jonathan Crane."

She did not answer, but simply nodded, satisfied, and resumed her earlier task. Jonathan's eyebrow twitched as he grabbed her yet again and made sure to grab both wrists this go-around.

The bird behind them screeched a warning call at his aggressive behavior.

"Stop putting your voodoo graffiti on my walls, please, and tell me why you are here."

The little witch yanked her wrists free with a very sour expression and abruptly moved to a new wall with Crane following close behind her.

"Firstly, I must inform you that witchcraft is not affiliated with voodoo, and while I am not offended, I am definitely not pleased with such an accusation. Secondly, these are protective wards and charms to give us a chance to sit and wait for help in peace. Thirdly, there is a demon out and about looking to kill you as we speak, so please step aside and let me finish."

Jonathan slowed to a halt for a moment, highly confused. To him, most of what she had curtly explained was gibberish, though he would never have admitted it. As far as he understood, here was a magick wielder in his house, whom he thought he had seen the last of, scribbling markings on every wall in the place, vaguely mentioning a demon, but being kind enough to inform him that it wanted him dead.

It had barely been a day since the last they saw each other, and he silently stood trying to figure out if there was possibly an ulterior motive behind this intrusion. He quietly contemplated until he saw her heading to the last door down the hall.

"Would you please stay out of my bedroom?"

He had called out a little too late as Epithumia had already found herself inside, writing her mystic symbols of protection.

She could barely see in the dark space, as the electricity was not available, but she soon fixed that by pulling down the heavy sheet that was draped over the window. Once the natural light from outside poured into the room, she could see the specs of dust wisp about rapidly, as if they were gnats. She found herself coughing as she bundled the dirty cloth up and casually looked to find a place to toss it out of the way.

The witch aimed to throw it into the corner just to the side of the door, but before she could let go of the sheet, they caught her attention. Those slits. Those eyes.


	14. Feathered

It came back to her in flashes of almost incredible speed, as if time had froze. Her surroundings faded, became distant, and she found herself plummeting down into an onslaught of shuffled memories. She remembered the first time she saw that wire-framed body enter into the coffee shop, dressed in plaid, dirt, and burlap, and then compared the image to Jonathan's boney physique and lanky build, when he sat down in the booth across from her.

His past words echoed and rung in the very core of her brain, "I heard that The Scarecrow had caused an incident. I hope you weren't apart of that nasty business." The police that had responded to the call had kept the case short and hadn't even made the story public, how he knew was always a small red flag somewhere in the back of her mind, and yet she hadn't even batted an eye to it.

The Scarecrow had looked her dead in the eyes, that night, past all that madness and chaos that he had woven and had decided to walk away. Dr. Crane had done so similarly, when she demanded he return the book to the library. There was something in the way that the two figures had handled the situations that always tugged at her reasoning. They had almost been too calm. Completely in control and empowered.

The little witch felt herself begin to sweat, and soon beads of it were rolling down her neck and back.

That man's screams, as he was hauled back to the freezer, washed back with such a force, taking grains of her composure with it. Like a wave lapping and swallowing vital grains of sand from an eroding shore. A power like that she had never known, and it had happened in an instant, like black magick.

Then the librarian's lash out earlier, after hearing his name, came to lock every theory into place and leave no room for any doubt to even exist.

"You took me back to the coffee shop to toy with me."

The witch, reeling from the discovery, slowly turned around.

"Actually no" – Jonathan had been leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed – "I took you back to see how naïve you are."

There was now a little chill that crawled along her arms when she finally was able to match his gaze. His face was void of emotion and had no real depth into his thoughts or a map to his actions. Not knowing what he may now do made her tethered in place. She waited in silence for him to say something more or to move, but he did neither. To her, he almost looked disinterested, but yet he continued to casually stand in the door. Then she saw it. As if a spark of brilliance crackled in his head, a small smirk gently twitched at the corner of his mouth, and his pupils slightly dilated.

"How fun. I see you're afraid of me now. If I'm being honest, I wondered how you would handle this realization." – He took two large steps toward her frozen figure, hoping her terror would feed off of the stimulus – "I myself feared I wouldn't get the pleasure of seeing you tremble again."

He stooped his tall frame to her level and then slid her hat from her head, to clearly see her every reaction; letting it fall to the floor. His smile was more noticeable than ever, and his eyes were crazed; largely for the fact that he had noticed, she had yet to resume breathing.

"So, what now, Sorceress?" He chuckled dryly.

His face was right above hers, and she felt his breath hit the crown of her head. The close proximity had her tensing up, just trying to prevent herself from shaking.

Though she wanted to run, she couldn't. Not only would her legs fail her, but she had a duty to perform and a world to save. Normally, she could care less about people and society, as she had locked herself away for most of her life, but this physical world was still her home. It was just that one fact that kept her from giving up or running away, and as she contemplated all of this to herself, she knew she didn't need another reason.

She raised her head to address him, but desperately refrained from looking him in the eye.

"In needing to choose between cowering in a corner, and saving your life to ultimately save humanity, I will choose the latter. I will, however, ask you to try and make this a little easier for me by stepping back and away from my face."

Her voice had cracked in a few places, but she didn't let that deter her from making her point clear.

"Wonderful," -She watched him turn and casually make his way out the room – "I'm very anxious to see what you'll do next, Ms. Bashem."

As soon as his shadow slunk out of sight, out of the room, she sighed and attempted to rub the goosebumps from her arms. The witch had worried that her knees would buckle if he had stayed any longer, or had made any more threatening moves, but that was over for now and she needed to have every wall marked by evening, so she promptly went back to work.

Just as she marked down the last wall in the room, a light tapping could be heard coming in from the doorway. She turned and noticed Drine had waddled in and she knelt to offer her arm. He stepped up and shimmied up to her shoulder.

"They are coming," he croaked eerily into her ear.

"How much time does that give us?"

"Not long at all."

She began to mumble under her breath and pulled out her phone from her satchel, double-checking to make sure Jason hadn't called her back yet. She abruptly stood and rushed back into the living room, where Jonathan was seated comfortably reading a book. He looked up to her hurried entrance.

"You've failed to go into serious detail on what all of this is about."

"There is no time, I'm afraid. We can't wait for help to arrive, so we have to go to them."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a small black junco feathered quill along with two crystals. Instead of having a metal tip and black ink, the quill only had a small stick of black wax for writing.

Carefully removing her flats, and setting them aside, she then drew two parallel lines on the floor on each side of her and placed the crystals, one black onyx and one clear quartz, in the middle of each one and stood between them both.

The doctor had set aside his book and was curiously watching her every move; choosing to remain silent until the end. He watched her rise and spill a language, he had only a small grasp of, and saw walls of light rise from the two lines she had drawn.

She spread out her arms as her wrists lengthened and dark slate grey feathers rapidly stretched out from her fingertips and along her shoulders to her neck, creating a collar of plumage that trailed into her hair. Her dress, minus the back half of the skirt, dissolved into her skin, making the tint a dark grey that glittered with sweat. The skirt that remained became layered with large flight feathers that fanned behind her. The smaller feathers, that were rapidly spreading, lightly layered themselves along her brae and bikini line and contoured her face. What used to be feet extended into talons with scaly skin that traveled half-way up her thigh, and they too became laced with feathers, until the only thing uncovered was her midsection and the top of her bust.

The light quietly subsided and retreated into the lines that it had originated from. The witch stood panting trying to regain her control, as the ritual had sapped her energy and she was finding it a little harder to stand. The talons, that kept her balance, dug into the wood flooring, causing the immediate planks around her to crack and splinter.

The unphased Jonathan, remained seated and silent as he waited for her to face and address him. When she slowly turned around, he began to note her new form and a new list of questions that it brought to his attention.

'What exactly is she?' He wondered while she regained herself.

The man of practicalities found this all to be a bit excessive and dramatic, even in his tastes. Granted, he had let most of the situation fly over his head, but from what he could tell she was on her own doing this, and he easily wagered that the witch did not fully know the solution to their problems.

Epithumia cautiously glanced up in hopes that he'd be willing to be cooperative and hear her explanation, but regrettably noticed his eyes wandering onto, what she thought were, the curves of her body. She quickly cloaked her winged arms around herself and tried to maintain a straight face, though it now was clearly flushed with embarrassment. She had always tried to avoid transforming in the company of people simply because of how revealing this form would be.

If she had the power to merely fly, she would, but given that she was a witch with limitations she had to transform like this.

She cleared her throat and finally spoke in an almost pleading manner, "I will ask you to not stare please, if you can warrant me that much respect."

The insulted Jonathan sneered, turned, and pluck his book from the couch.

"I was just disappointed to find that the sorceress, who apparently has my life in her hands, has abracadabra'd herself into a glorified and sexualized pigeon."

Her mouth fell open.

"And if that was the finale to your poorly placed magic show, you can see yourself out."

He headed to the kitchen, aiming to distance himself from her ridiculous conclusions when a shadow appeared from out the corner of his eye, and with incredible speed, it darted up to him. A force rocked his jaw and soon to follow was an immeasurable pain as his book fell from his hand and he collapsed into a state of unconsciousness.


	15. The Fates Do Declare

"I have half a mind to leave you to your own devices, Bastard!"

Epithumia furiously yelled after Jonathan as he strode out of the room, but there was no reply.

"Are you listening to me?!"

There was a sequence of thuds as a belated response and Drine was quick to let out a series of loud screeches, as a warning, to his mistress. Just as soon as he did, a lumbering shadow creature entered in from the kitchen with a limp Jonathan Crane slung over its shoulder. The red beady dots, that it had for eyes, flashed towards the witch with rage. Epithumia backed away and the cockatoo hissed from the back of the couch, where he was perched.

"You're not Durratine. I'm guessing a lackey perhaps?"

The creature rumbled out a growl before issuing a charge.

"Drine, introduce yourself."

The bird immediately flew to the ground, in front of the large shadow, and began to morph. His size grew and his bones could be clearly heard snapping. His lower beak stretched itself to unsheathe a new set of shark-like teeth. He grew an extra set of limbs and began to shed all of his down feathers in a matter of seconds, leaving a starved, stringy, and grotesque body behind.

Drine lunged at the mass, causing it to drop the unconscious Jonathan to the floor and roar as it tried to remain on its feet. A sound, like the shredding of cloth, could be heard as the demon bird took the talons from his new limbs and dug them into the shoulders of the shadow. He pushed with the momentum of his wings until the thing was slammed against the living room wall. It let out a shrill wail when Drine's beak wedged itself into its neck.

The thing charged, forcing Drine back, and swung him up by his wings throwing him off of itself and across the room. The demon bird slammed into the desk, sending it to shatter into pieces and the papers it contained to fly up in a flurry. A few vials filled with a green substance rolled the length of the floor from one of the dislodged drawers.

Drine scooped up a handful of sharp, wood-shards from the ruble and slunk rapidly to the shadow. Before the thing could react, he smashed their dagger-like ends into its feet, pegging the creature to the floor. It howled and Drine, never losing momentum, sent his claws flying up and through the underside of its jaw, piercing through into its mouth. The shadow gurgled and spat out a black liquid substance before slumping to the ground in a thudding defeat.

As Drine stood back from the dissolving mass, Epithumia ran to Jonathan, who still laid unconscious on the floor. She lifted him and propped him up against the wall.

"Jonathan?"

She checked to find he still had a pulse and sighed with relief. She knew she needed to get him out of there before any more of Durratine's lackeys arrived, so she reached for her satchel and pulled out a special pair of leather gloves and wriggled them onto her talons. If she was to fly him to Jason's she needed there to be a way to do that without her talons digging into his shoulders.

Drine stood in the entrance of the hallway, looking on, when he suddenly rippled out a scream and fell to the ground in a tussle. The creature had reanimated and Drine now was finding its teeth sunk in his back as he struggled to roll it off of him. The floor shook while they thrashed about, and one of the vials, that had escaped from the broken desk, could be heard crunching under their weight. The shards, now covered in the green liquid that they held, sliced into the shadow creature's arm as it promptly released Drine and became more agitated than ever.

Foaming at the mouth and shaking, it began to fight an unseen force and attack the walls and floor, smashing its head repeatedly into both.

Epithumia dragged Jonathan towards the back door by his arms, while Drine grabbed one of the remaining unbroken vials, and stood protectively between his mistress and the creature. As soon as she could, the witch took off into the sky with the doctor in her clutches and Drine, after shaping back into his palm cockatoo appearance, following suit. The creature's screams could be heard over the whistling of the wind as they set their direction to Jason's flat.

She aimed to fly above the clouds to avoid the public eye while the noon sun was still new in the sky, but she suddenly felt an awoken Jonathan struggling in her grasp. The witch knew if he was yelling, she wouldn't be able to hear him, so she thought it best to continue on the course and gave a quick and sharp squeeze to his shoulders. With plenty of miles left before they got to the flat, there was no time for stops. Jonathan struggled like a child for a while, but she felt him stop eventually. Epithumia flew on, smiling at the thought that it could have been he had simply worn himself out.

The window to Jason's flat was open with the curtains breezing out of it. She carefully let Jonathan off on the windowsill and landed as soon as he stepped inside.

"Would you mind giving me an explanation now?!"

He rapidly began to brush himself off and smooth out the air streaked wrinkles in his black turtleneck shirt. Though his orange-ginger hair was never exactly neat, it now was a cow-lick and the man struggled to tame it.

The witch turned to him a placed a finger up to her lips, urging him to be quiet.

The fireplace had died out, leaving the room mostly dark with the only source of light beaming in from the open window. From what she could see in the light, the place looked vacant, minus the other half of the room that was shrouded in a seemingly endless black.

"Jason? I've found Jonah Rance."

The short silence that followed was more than unsettling before an echoed voice reached out from the darkness, and Dr. Fate could be seen gliding out from the shadows.

"Just as the Fates foretold."

Epithumia quietly and protectively stepped in front of Jonathan when Fate turned his attention to him, hoping to explain before any sour conclusion could be made.

"Jonathan Crane turned out to be Jonah Rance, and when I went to his house to retrieve him a shadow demon attacked. I tried to get ahold of Jason, but he never called me back."

She trailed off as she saw sharp movement in the shadows behind Fate. Squinting, she tried to make out the shape as best she could, and as her eyes adjusted, she could just only see a lump on the floor. It seemed to wobble in distress with little reward for its struggle. The sight didn't sit well for her and her eyes then darted to find the couch in the darkness, that was slowly becoming familiar and clear, and when they did, she noticed Zatanna's sleeping form missing.

"Fate, where's Zatanna and Jason?"

Her stern question was cold.

Dr. Fate did not seem bothered by her changed demeanor as he firmly answered, "Jason and Zatanna will play no further part in this quest."

"What are you talking about? I thought you were on our side."

"For the Lords of Order, there are no sides only balance and-"

"Let me guess, order?"

Drine called out from the darkness, that he had waddled into, amidst the conversation, and yanked the chain of a lamp, above the struggling mass, to turn it on and reveal a gagged and tied up Jason and unconscious Zatanna.

"This doesn't look very orderly at all; it looks more chaotic to me." He continued to poke at Fate.

"Oh, how wonderful." Jonathan sarcastically remarked upon seeing the two contained persons.

"Fate, this is obscene. Release them." Epithumia demanded behind a clenched jaw.

"I won't. To do so would be to tip the scale."

"Then why help us at all?! You were here to help keep this demon contained for another year, and now that he's free, putting him back would be against your ideals?!"

The witch was fuming to see her friends betrayed, tied, and gagged. The image burned into her head as a perfect lesson to be learned, and one she thought she had memorized. To her, no matter what label she had put on the people around her, whether they were her friends, family, or companions, they always ended the same.

A vicious cycle of social anxiety, loneliness, and manipulation kept reappearing in her many lives, and she had turned up abandoned, cheated, betrayed, or abused in every situation, almost as if those were the only conclusions to any relationship. She knew she shouldn't have seen this situation any differently, and she kicked herself for it.

"When I first came, there was no balancing force to Durratine. Now that he is free, the Lords of Order have foreseen the scales even out with you as his opposing force, Epithumia Bashem. You are to carry out this quest without the aid of others, for you are to follow your destiny."

"That's a pathetic excuse for what you have done." She spat at him, red-faced and shaking.

"I don't expect you to understand. I do expect you to leave Zatanna and Jason as they are, or force will be distributed."

His fist then warningly began to glow in gold.


	16. Her Possible Fate

She could only hear her heartbeat drumming in her ears, as they all stood motionless. The air was hard to breathe, being thick with tension, and Epithumia's teeth naturally gritted together painfully.

Fate's fists were bright with golden luminescent magick and the witch's eyes were trained on them, being watchful of any move that they dared to make. Jonathan was keeping his distance behind her, noting fully that he was out of his element.

Everyone was still. Everyone was quiet until a small and faint scratching could be heard. The witch held her breath and her pulse quickened, unsure where the disturbance was emanating from, but still too tense to move.

Fate suddenly, and at an incredible speed, turned and issued a blast at Drine, who had been attempting to pick apart Jason and Zattana's bindings behind him. The bird managed to flutter out of the way of the beam and let out a shrill shriek at the fast attack.

Epithumia's rush of adrenaline shook her awake, in realizing the battle had now begun, and she jumped at Fate, with her talons aiming for his helm. The lord of order quickly set up a wall of gold to push her back and she landed hard on the ground.

Drine had quickly reverted into his original form and swung his large, beastly, and stringy arm at Fate before he could proceed to harm his mistress. The god countered quickly to the demon, but failed to stop Epithumia as she rebounded and kicked her talons up to his chest to proceed in taring his flesh apart. He yelled out in agony and blasted Drine, who was coming in to take another swing, and pushed Epithumia to tumble across the floor with a shield of magick.

Warm blood spilled from the deep gashes that were in threes upon his chest, but Fate started to charge another beam and aimed it directly at Drine's head, who was beginning to rush his way. Epithumia quickly rose, leaped, and tried to claw open one of Fate's outstretched arms, but he tucked them away and stepped back just enough to where the whoosh of wind from her talons, that were inches from him, was the only thing he felt.

Before she landed, just a foot in front of him, Fate grabbed up a fistful of her flight feathers and gave a sharp pull. The shockwave of pain splintered the feeling in the nerves up her arm, and the witch screamed a terrible cry as he yanked a second time to finally pluck away several of her large flight feathers from her fingers.

She quickly collapsed into a whimpering heap upon the floor, cradling her winged arm as it oozed red. The god towered over her feeble form; eyes glowing with power before suddenly being thrown across the room. It was Drine who had rushed back to pick Fate up by his throat and, with a tremendous inhuman force, had catapulted him into the bookshelves, just to the right from where they were.

As Fate seemed to crumple into the pile of fallen books around him, Drine knelt down to the witch to check the seriousness of her wounds. While his claw extended to hold up Epi's arm, two blasts launched into his turned back and he created a loud thud as he fell, unconscious.

Epithumia cried out Drine's name in horror while the Lord of Order slowly lifted his arms for one last blast, to render the witch helpless. The bright gold lit up her eyes as the light charged brighter and brighter, anticipating its release, when suddenly, the sharp sound of glass shattering could be heard. The growing golden beams evaporated and soon to rise after were Fate's cries as he clutched his head and staggered back.

The witch blinked, from the sweat that had started to roll down her face, and saw Fate beginning to crouch, back onto the pile of fallen books, while an unmoved Jonathan stood just beside the man's episode with his hands in his pockets, glancing down at the witch.

While Dr. Fate didn't scream, it was painfully obvious he was battling with an unknown force as he thrashed in place.

Jonathan's mouth twitched, as he was finding it hard to hold back his smile from the sight of a grown man on his knees before him.

"T-thank you", was all Epithumia could stammer out to him, after registering that he had saved her. Her eyes were still watering from her pain, and she blinked to clear her sight, while Jonathan knelt down and carefully lifted her arm. She quickly yanked it away from his touch and a frown creased his face. There were large holes from where the feathers' calamuses had been embedded deep into the skin and bone, and they were still oozing blood, from what he could see.

"Ms. Bashem, I highly recommend letting me wrap that properly. If you don't cut off the blood flow now, you are going to pass out in the next four minutes."

Drine was now starting to rise and appeared dazed as he staggered to his feet and began to shape himself back, once again. He eyed Jonathan's hands on his mistress and let out a barely audible hiss at the informal contact.

She hazily glanced down at her arm. The red was staining her feathers and starting to become sticky; causing the barbs to awkwardly clump together and become useless. The witch stared up at him, looking for any hint of malice before reluctantly pushing her injury back towards him. He took it tenderly and urged her to follow him to the couch, where a throw blanket was waiting.

Epi glanced back at Jason and Zatanna who were still tied up behind them, and pressed Jonathan to be quick.

It took him no time at all to wrap her arm tightly in the blanket and for her to immediately rush back to her friends.

Jason's muffled cries only got louder, and he struggles more ferocious as his dear friend neared. She tugged the gag out of his mouth, to which he immediately began to ramble in such a speed that the witch felt the need to place a firm hand on his shoulder to calm him; a beautiful action that he had blessed her with many times before. Instead of calming down, however, he took his bound hands and clasped them firmly on hers.

"Jason, please, you need to calm down. It's over now."

"No! No, listen to me!"- his hold on her grew harsh as he tried to shake her awake - "Take Jonathan away from here! Only he can touch Durratine! Only he can defeat him! You have to help each other, so don't try and do this alone, Epithumia. Please, don't kill yourself."

"Jason, why? What can defeat him that only Jonathan can do?" She tried to keep her voice calm hoping it would help Jason calm himself, but his volume only grew.

"Epithumia, believe me! You can't do anything alone to contain this demon. It has to be Jonathan, no matter what it is, it has to be him."

"Jason, you need to calm down, let me help you out of these bindings and we can"-

"I believe that's enough talk."

She nearly choked on the air and spun around finding Dr. Fate recovered and hovering closer. A bright golden light began to envelop her sight and obstruct her view of everything, save for the large ankh of glowing gold slamming itself down upon her.

The light became so blinding that she had to tightly shut her eyes and cover her face. She felt nothing but a gentle warmth and a cradling force within everything becoming obsolete. The light faded away and she fluttered her eyes open. Blackness. Darkness. With the fading of the light was also the fading of the warmth and odd comfort it provided, and it was slowly replaced with a cold and dreaded emptiness.

The first thing she could see in that dark was chipped white paint, as she laid on the wood planks of a porch. The witch slowly sat up to see even clearer the vast forest beyond the front yard, and by the white eyes that glistened in curiosity and hunger as they all looked on at her defenseless state. She knew then where she was. She was home.


	17. And Then There Were Three

Epithumia found herself sitting there on the porch of her home. The old Victorian's wood creaked and moaned as she rose and glanced about confused.

A cold front had moved over her small part of Pennsylvania throughout the day and had left an inch of snow, like a sheer sheet, on her house and the yard. Her breath wafted up in front of her face as the crystalized ground glittered despite the overcast.

She looked down at her doctored arm and was brought back by a whiplash of bad premonitions, that swarmed to her attention like flies. The witch reflectively called out to the air in a panic.

"Jonathan?! Drine?!"

Because of the tainted forest, that hugged the edges of her yard and house, there was no echo. There was only silence.

The witch rushed down her porch steps, and nearly tripped on her talons as she ran around the back of the house calling their names again. Just as before, though, there was nothing.

The frosty air that was billowing around her face was thanks to her heavy and anxiety-laced breathing. She dashed back to the house and entered through the back door to quickly transform out of her harpy state, but shining through the front door's glass, which was straight down the hallway from the back, was a harsh flash that made her come to a halt.

That flash was instantly familiar, as she had just come out of one earlier.

"Jonathan? Drine?"

Epithumia threw open the front door to the two of them sitting in a heap before her as if they had been tossed on her porch like a Sunday newspaper.

Jonathan rubbed his head and hoisted himself up while Drine quickly took his place on her shoulder.

"Where the hell did he send us?" The man resentfully grated while being beckoned inside.

"This is my house" -she was swift to close the door behind them- "We must get to work at once."

Jonathan shivered a bit from the sudden cold, and the dark wood floors creaked with every step, as he entered into the parlor, that was to the left of the foyer.

The parlor had dark tones in all its décor, but despite that, it still felt warm and homey. The ceiling had an intricate dark crown moulding to frame the copper vintage ceiling tiles, and the small candle chandelier was situated there in the middle. The walls were covered, from halfway down in a burgundy red wallpaper with a small and shimmering, copper ivy vine design, and a dark wood paneling took up the lower half of the walls.

There was a brown loveseat and coffee table just in front of the bay window, that was on the left side of the room, a record player and large bookshelf were on the right side of the room, and in the middle of the wall parallel to the archway was a brown brick fireplace.

Epithumia urged Jonathan to take a seat while she got the fireplace going, and Drine left her shoulder for his perch that hung down from the ceiling, just beside the loveseat. As soon as a flame started to grow from the smoke, she reached up to a box on the mantle and pulled out a rose petal to throw in. The enchanted petal would magickally keep the fire inside the fireplace and remove the need to refuel the flame with wood.

The witch then stood and plucked a hidden white feather from behind her right ear, and slowly, all of her plumage began to retreat back into her skin, her legs regained their feet, and her clothes returned as they were. Her arm, however, still maintained its wounds but was healing up quickly. Seeing no need for the bloody throw blanket, she set it down just outside the archway in the long foyer.

"From the looks of it, that wound seems to be almost healed."

As soon as Epi had removed the blanket Jonathan had noticed the difference and could see the skin resealing itself. Upon first glance, anyone would have guessed that it had been inflicted weeks ago rather than in the last hour.

She uneasily cleared her throat and began to fiddle with her arm.

"Yes, well, I have quite a quick regenerative healing factor."

He took another mental note as she sat on the other side of the loveseat and turned to him.

"Right, well I think the first question we should ask is, what kind of magick are you most advanced in?"

A single eyebrow rose curiously on his brooding face.

"Excuse me?"

"What classification of magick do you use most often, I guess is what I meant to ask."

"No, I know what you're asking. What I'm asking is, what has given you the impression that I use magick?"

Epithumia began to feel a cold sweat on her neck as she searched her head for answers.

'Am I not supposed to know, or did he think I hadn't realized?'

She hesitated and an awkward smile naturally came to her face in not knowing what exactly should be said. Jonathan, on the other hand, also found a smile coming to his lips, but it was of a more sadistic and amused variety, as he enjoyed watching her sweat.

"Well, I mean, I've seen you use magick twice now, including what you did to Dr. Fate just a while ago."

A loud cackling laugh ripped through the quiet house and nearly sent Drine to flutter off of his perch in surprise. The doctor rose still holding his stomach and giggling, while Epithumia remained still and quite unamused. She had never seen him so openly show so much emotion before, and the sight of it certainly didn't put her at ease. If anything, she felt the knots in her stomach tighten.

"You poor naïve child."- He slowly turned to face her with a manic smile stretching to the corners of his face - "My Dear, you don't know the first thing about me, do you?"

She remained quiet, not wanting to send him into a dangerous rage, though she couldn't tell if he was mad, crazed, or truly amused.

"What you saw was not magick, it was science."

"Science?"

She couldn't believe science was behind those fits and screams of grown men.

He folded his long slender arms behind his back and slowly began to approach her.

"Yes Child, science."- Jonathan bent down, as he stood just before her, as a teacher would when catching a child writing a note in class -"I call it Fear Toxin, and I wish I could demonstrate to you what it is, but to your luck, I don't have any with me ."

She sighed and stood from the couch needing to distance herself from him, and his gaze, as she knew he was trying to get a rise out of her, though she couldn't understand why. She had seen what that 'Fear Toxin' had done to others, and for him to want to use it on her, with no cause that she could think of, was something that made her feel nauseous.

"Must you really do this now? Can we not act like this anymore?"

"I beg your pardon?"

The witch turned to him with exhaustion in her eyes, and a pleading tone to her words.

"I just don't know why you constantly try to scare me, and I think that we've been through enough to look at each other as more than just strangers."

The doctor almost felt another laugh coming on and grinned despite her plea.

"Haven't you been listening? We are strangers."

"Then let's change that. I'm here to save your life, Jonathan."

"Not particularly."- his smile was gone as he could find not a shred of amusement in her white lie – "You're here to save the world, are you not? Follow your destiny, perhaps? As far as I go, I'm just one unlucky soul along for the ride."

Her face crinkled up with concern and she pierced her lip as she gently reached out to hold his arm.

"Jonathan, please believe me when I say, that I might need to save you to save everyone else, but I assure you that I view you as more a real human being than any of them."- she regrettably saw his countenance become estranged with confusion, so she quickly continued-"You have a very raw energy, Jonathan. You're not afraid to be yourself or tell others how you truly feel. It's truly refreshing."

The doctor slowly pulled his arm away and took a step back from her.


	18. Common Ground

Jonathan walked back out into the brisk wintery air with a little flustered witch running after him.

"Jonathan, wait!"

He pulled off his large round glasses to manually wipe the fog off, that the sudden change in temperature had caused, but he did not stop for a moment as he proceeded to ignore his shadow.

The man had an almost silent fury towards Epithumia's lack of regard concerning his personal space, but he couldn't help but let some of his true emotion show. Afterall, she spoke as if she'd actually seen him, and maybe she had, but what really made him cross was the lingering fear that he might be getting too close to his prey for her to be prey anymore.

'If she's lost her fear, then what am I to do to rekindle it, or has the thrill also lost its flavor, and to try and force it out of her would make it bland?' He silently pondered as he continued his stride.

'What happened to make her not fear me? Was it simply the fact that we've spent too much time in each other's company? Perhaps she's so desperate for true companionship that even I seemed like a logical choice. Though she can't be as ignorant as to believe that's how normal social connections are made.'

The witch was practically skipping to keep up with the long strides Jonathan's legs covered, and all the while pondering what went wrong. He had just walked out without a word leaving her mind in pieces. She couldn't figure out what she had said or done.

She thought the best course of action to make him more comfortable and approachable was to lay her feelings out and to be honest, but now she could see that somewhere she went wrong.

The sun hadn't set yet but the cover of the overcast, and canopy of needles the trees provided, caused everything in sight to become draped in shadow, and for the traitorous peace to reveal its true self and fit onto the picture of the forest, like a glove.

The darkness became a perfect canvas for their eyes; those white eyes. They showed up in pairs and set their gaze on the man that was blindly walking onto their long dirt road.

Epithumia watched them appear and glisten with intent, but Jonathan was not stopping, and she knew that meant he hadn't seen them, or he would have froze in the sharpness of their predatory glare.

She began to panic as he continued on, going deeper and further down that long stretch, that was almost too long to survive.

The little witch rushed to stop him and yelled out in her desperation.

"Stop! Please!"

The doctor still put one foot in front of the other until he made it to the second thicker tree line that the road cut through. With him ignoring every plea she had made, and not losing pace, Epithumia made the only logical choice she could see to take and pounced onto him; throwing all of her weight on him and wrapping her arms around him to deter any fight he might have had.

They both toppled to the ground with Jonathan struggling to turn over with her on him; the little witch tried with all her might to grab his arms and keep them pinned.

"Get off of me, Witch!"

"Listen to me, Bastard!"

Jonathan pulled his arms out from under her strength to which she fell onto his chest and knocked the breath clean out of him. In turn, when she fell his forehead connected with her chin causing her teeth to rattle together when they slammed closed. With that, they both ceased their struggle.

Jonathan laid there gasping and the witch panting as she tried to get up, holding a hand to her mouth. He gained his breath back and slowly sat up with her help.

They stared at each other, sitting on the ground, until they were ready to give talking another try.

"Jonathan, you can't go. I need you here."

He already knew that, but he chose to remain quiet as her face was nit with determination while she continued.

"More than that, you can't go into these woods."

The doctor watched her eyes dart to the dark of the trees and followed her line of sight. It was then he noticed them. They had multiplied since Epithumia had seen them earlier as the sun was now setting, and in the newly planted shadows their beady, white eyes became lurid orbs.

The witch helped him to his feet and didn't release his arm until they were safely back inside.

From the parlor bay window, and its safety indoors, Jonathan watched the paired lights stalk about just beyond the tree line. Epi entered back in from the kitchen with a tray of hot tea that she set down on the coffee table.

"Are they the ones hunting me?"

She took the place beside him and joined in watching outside.

"No."

She then handed him his cup and took a sip from hers.

"Think of them as a home security system, except for I don't get to choose who they leave alone."

"Are they demons?"

"Yes."

The doctor took a sip from his steaming cup and felt refreshed as the hot liquid soothed his throat.

"How did they get here?"

"I made a deal with each one of them, and put them here."

He chuckled and went after another sip of tea.

"So, you are telling me you sold your soul?"

"Not at all. Truth be told that should be the last thing anyone sells. I simply told them they could eat any soul that stepped into those woods, but that's the catch. As long as the soul stays on that road, they can't touch them. They also can't warp the visual of the road or create a false road, but they are allowed to put on a show."

"A show you say?"

"They can shapeshift into anything that they think might get you into the woods."

The dark had finally taken hold and the glowing eyes began to fall back into the surrounding forest, and as the last pair turned away Epithumia gently touched the doctor's arm and directed his attention to the couch.

"So, I'm hoping we can take the time to understand each other and possibly figure out a way to defeat Durratine."

Crane let out a heavy sigh and reluctantly sat beside her on the couch, leaning back and crossing his legs.

"First I want to know how all of this came to be, and I want you to start from the beginning."

She nodded fully aware that he should have been told the story from the beginning since he was stuck in the middle of it all. Like always he remained expressionless through the entire explanation, even when she explained that it technically was her fault he was involved.

When she had finished, they sat for a while in silence, and she caught herself staring at him as he soaked it all in. This perfectly stoic man that sat next to her had somehow captured her respect and had earned her envy.

She thought back on the two men that had trembled in his wake, and how deep down she had always wanted that for herself. To be feared rather than fear others. She watched him comb his fingers through his orange hair and rise from the loveseat.

"Well, Ms. Bashem, do you have any proposals to how we can begin?"

"I do, but I first must understand how your toxin is made, and then we can go from there."

"I'm afraid I have strict guidelines to not hand out the make and recipe for my toxin to anyone."

"And what about having you make it for me?"

His eyebrows rose quizzically. "How will we acquire what I might need?"

She flashes him a teasing smile in feeling the power of being in control for once.

"Please allow me to escort you to my personal laboratory, Doctor."

The witch eagerly lead him to the pantry beneath the stairs that held the entrance to the cellar. They both ascended the rickety planks to a dark, oak, stain glass, double door, and once she pushed it open, all Jonathan could do was smile.

The eager man ran his thin fingers along the multiple labeled bottles and jars that lined shelves upon shelves on the edges of the room. They all surrounded a large iron cauldron that was in the middle of it all, and as Crane lifted a bottle to examine its contents, Epi called out to him from the door.

"I do have a question for you, Doctor."

He looks up briefly from the bottle, "Ask away."

"How did it feel to stand before those men that coward before you?"

There was a spark in his eye that rose like a flare upon the ocean blue of its hue and his smile became uncomfortably genuine while he answered her inquiry.

"Every time, in that moment, over and over again I find that I am no longer a man, though I can be a man, or a woman, or a thing. I become an expanse that is only limited by a human mind; the mind of whom I am standing over. There is a power there, and it places me in the seat of the universe itself, on the throne of fear, and in that, I always find that I have become a god."


	19. Curiosity

**Chapter 19****:**

Curiosity

The little witch saw as the doctor dramatically changed before her. His intense focus set her golden eyes to light up with genuine childish curiosity as she watched him while he was hunched over the secretary table, that she had cleared off for him in the back of the cellar.

Most of what he had needed for his formula was found in small vials that she had had as samples, and the rest was acquired from several species of flower that were hung up and dangling down from the rafters to dry.

She patiently sat there and observed for what seemed like, to her, hours, and as fascinated as she was, she couldn't help but stifle out a yawn. Epithumia painfully realized that she had gone without sleep for several days, and the simple realization caused another yawn to creep up on her.

The doctor's head didn't lift, and his hands never slowed, but he casually reassured her exhaustion, "Ms. Bashem, I can promise that my work will take all night. I can't force you to go to bed, but I will prescribe it."

The little witch chuckled, "I didn't know you were that kind of doctor."

"I was, but it feels like a lifetime ago."

"What happened?"

The man sighed, remembering that she knew absolutely nothing about him, despite the numerous headlines and news highlights. He took the time to set down his work and turn to face her.

"I tell you what, if you head off and get some sleep, I will regale you with my treacherous story of woe in the morning."

Epithumia rolled her eyes to the last bit of drama he had added to his voice for sarcasm's sake.

"Doctor, are you trying to bribe me like a child?"

"Compared to my lifetime, you are a child, so I have no doubt that it should work. Besides, it is, after all, a very tempting offer."

Her cheeks puffed up in her aggravation.

"I'm afraid Child,"- her words were dry –"that your lifetime is roughly five-hundred and sixty-six years too late for that claim."

Choosing to smooth over her change in demeanor, Jonathan grinned.

"As impressive as that is, I'm afraid Child, that in all that time you still lack the experience needed to function properly in this modern world."

"How does dressing up as a Scarecrow and terrorizing people count as functioning properly?"

The socially drained man removed his glasses and rubbed his brow.

"As I said, I would be more than happy to tell you tomorrow. Now, won't you please let me work?"

Epithumia opened her mouth to say something more but caught herself. She had no reason to complain and yet here she found herself hounding a man that was beginning to cooperate with her. She bit her lip ashamed.

"Forgive me, I realize my emotions got the better of me. I do appreciate you creating your toxin for me."

The man didn't look up, despite his calming, alto, voice.

"Don't thank me, it's what humanity needs, so I don't have much of a choice."

"That's not entirely true. We could have tapped into the dormant demonic power you now possess, and though that wouldn't have been impossible it would have taken a little longer."

She cautiously reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. She felt his light shutter from her unexpected touch, though he still refused to lift his head and acknowledge it.

"Would you like me to show you where you can sleep? That is of course if you finish early."

"I appreciate the thought, but I won't be sleeping tonight."

An apologetic smile came to her lips though he still had his gaze downward to the project on the desk.

"Goodnight, Jonathan."

Not another word was said as the witch ascended the cellar stairs to turn in for the night. She returned to the parlor to fetch Drine, who was dozing off himself, and then climbed the second set of stairs to the second floor.

At the top of the stairs were three doors, the one on the right leading to her bedroom, the middle to the bathroom, and the left the guest bedroom.

Epithumia's eyes wearily fell to the guest bedroom door, which was open just a crack. She gently closed it and let her forehead rest upon its cool wood. The witch nervously pondered the thought of returning downstairs to advise Jonathan not to enter this room, but she could barely hold her head up as it was and instead found herself whispering a soft plea to the door, hoping it would reach what was inside.

"Please don't harm him if he enters. For me."

There was no response or clue as to whether what lay beyond promised or even heard, but she chose to accept the silence as positive and turned to shuffle to her room; trusting that Jonathan would be up all night, consumed in his work.

From the cellar, the house was so deathly quiet that Jonathan could hear Epithumia close her bedroom door.

He sat and waited for almost an hour in the silence before rising and heading upstairs. The sample of the toxin he was working on he had finished long before the woman had let out her first yawn, for Jonathan had been anticipating this prime opportunity to uncover more about his hostess.

His spindly frame still made the vintage floors groan, but his stealth came through as he entered back into the parlor. The doctor came to the painful truth that the house was not furnished with electricity, as his hand had sniffed out a light switch along the wall, however, the fireplace was still lit, casting enough light for his detective work to commence.

Earlier, while in the company of the witch, he had his eyes set on three medium-sized boxes that took up the bottom shelf of the bookcase. Jonathan made a V-line straight to them and eagerly pulled one out.

The dust was at least an inch thick on the lid, as he cautiously removed it, trying not to leave handprints and careful not to risk the possibility of being cursed. With everything that had happened, he wouldn't have been surprised if there was a curse on that box. However, what he found was simply a very small quantity of photos.

They were photos of Epithumia, that were lifetimes old, but all of them jumped in and out of different times until they became more modern. The styles in clothing and hair were all different, but he could always pick her face out, from amongst the rest, in each one of them.

The next box Jonathan dug into was a box filled with nothing more than random knickknacks. There was the occasional precious jewel, but most of the items were relics of what one would find in a poor man's house, such as a tarnished candlestick, a small thimble, and an eroded wooden spoon.

The last of the three boxes immensely caught his curiosity when he opened it, for other than the thick musty gust that wafted into his face, nothing was inside except a large cloth and a tiny eroded, copper broach. The woolen cloth had clearly seen better days, as it was stained with orange and yellow and it was so worn that the density of it had diminished, making it almost see-through.

Jonathan refrained from touching the cloth, as he knew it would end up ripping if he did, but he did, however, pick up the broach. It was such a simple little trinket, with no jewels or much of any kind of design to give it appeal, and the whole piece had long since oxidized being completely green and grey. However, Jonathan was almost charmed to see something so seemingly insignificant be set aside from the other trinkets that were clearly in much better shape.

The doctor decided to put away the boxes and continue his investigation into other areas of the house, as the parlor did not hide much else to be found. He stepped into the hallway and aimed to enter the dining room, who's door was just on the opposite wall, to the right of the front door and at the foot of the stairs that lead to the second floor.

He never made it there though, as he froze to the sight of brief movement at the other end of the hallway. He had seen Epithumia in a white nightgown walk through an archway that was down the hall on the left. In knowing that she would return to go to bed, the man thought through what best he could do to avoid suspicion.

Jonathan cleared his throat and called out to her, knowing the perfect story that would weave itself.

"Ms. Bashem? Would you point me to the bathroom, please? I can't seem to find it."

There was no answer.

"Ms. Bashem?"

He slowly edged towards the archway, for once hoping not to scare her, and peered inside. No lights were lit, and he paused to let the darkness become clearer. When his eyes had adjusted, he saw it was a large kitchen.

There was a bar with barstools, an icebox, and an iron stove, but there was no witch and nothing, from what he could tell, amiss.

Weary, the man shook his head and massaged his eyes, as he must have been mistaken and, as ashamed as he was to admit it, paranoid.

Jonathan as quietly as he could return to his investigation. He had quickly looking into the dining room to see the only furniture there was the table, chairs, and a large china cabinet.

The Doctor's attention was then immediately turned to upstairs, as he carefully climbed to the top. He paced himself well to limit the creaking and paused at the top to make sure he hadn't woken anyone.

When all seemed clear he was faced with three doors, and the one to the far left was open just a crack.


	20. If Walls Could Talk

Everything around him was still and dark, as Crane stood at the top of the stairs, determined to discover anything he could on the little witch.

He had his head cocked to the slightly ajar door that was to his left, and stood for a while, contemplating on if he should enter. There was nothing particularly special about it, though there was the risk that the little Epi was just asleep on the other side. He stood listening for a sigh, a snore, or a spring of a bed, but there was not a single noise, so the man unapologetically proceeded to peek inside further.

He slowly pushed open the door as it softly squawked and let a cone of soft light filter out the pitch black beyond. The man, as curious as he was, did not pass the threshold as he still wasn't sure if this was Epithumia's room.

Giving his eyes time to adjust, he followed the cone of light from its brightest, at the beginning of the door, in and saw the wood floor, then the edges of a tasseled rug, and then the redwood of a bed frame.

Jonathan's eyes squinted as they strained to see further, and saw it was a half canopy bed, with a patchwork quilt as a comforter, and that no one was sleeping in it.

He grinned and sought to finally step into the room, but his eyes kept adjusting to show the dark corner that was just beyond that bed. There was a tall window, and a nightstand, but there was also a black mass that appeared to become bigger and blacker the longer he stared.

Jonathan watched it evolve into the shape of a massive humanoid. There were no defining details to its face or any outline of clothing or hair, but Crane knew it was staring him down. The cunning man's demeanor dramatically changed as the icy glare seemed to drain him of his mobilization.

The thing slowly approached, as its form glided across the floor, and issued what can only be described as a low, rumbling, growl. Jonathan felt his whole body shutter, and the electric surge, from every hair on his body standing on end, seemed to give his legs the needed charge to finally start taking steps back and away from the room.

The mass did not pursue him beyond the frame of the door, but instead let out a final growl, before the door abruptly slammed shut, seemingly on its own.

Jonathan's fear was quickly replaced with fascination, as he stood and continued to observe the door to the room. After a moment of silence, he heard the pitter-patter of bare feet on the wood as he turned to see Epithumia rushing out of the room behind him in a silk robe.

"Jonathan?!"

She grabbed his arm and pulled him further back as she had pieced enough of the situation together at finding him staring at the guest bedroom.

"Did you go in?!"

The woman frantically looked him over, as a mother would to a child that had just fallen, and he calmly stopped her hands from searching him.

"Ms. Bashem, I'm fine."

He heard her release the breath she had been holding and watched her step away and cross her arms.

The man had gone through his analysis of the situation in his head and had formed a firm understanding of several facts. Those facts being that with the question Epithumia asked him, she knew what was on the other side of that door, therefore it is supposed to be there, and it was not the demon that was hunting him. He did know, however, that even though that thing was not out to get him, it was a threat in some way, as the little witch was as white as a sheet with worry.

"Is that another one of your demons?"

Anger quickly took over her panicked face.

"Don't call him that, please, and no, he's just a wandering soul."

Jonathan's eyebrows raised at the humor that he found in hearing that.

"So, you have demons in your forest, a ghost in your house, and you yourself are a witch. Are you going to introduce me to the vampire in your attic?"

"This house doesn't have an attic."

Her expression remained serious and Jonathan found himself sighing, displeased that the joke had clearly gone over her head.

"Did you finish your toxin?"

She unskillfully changed the subject, but he left it alone as he wasn't going to press her that late into the night, or in truth that early in the morning.

"I did. It didn't take me as long as I had thought it would."

"Well, I think it would be best if you slept in my room tonight."

Jonathan immediately felt a small lump form in his throat, that he could not swallow no matter how hard he tried, and at that moment, he became hyper-aware of her silk robe.

The fabric wasn't transparent, but it was in a way luscious and it only further wrung his unease.

The witch naturally didn't recognize his change in demeanor, and before he could protest, she continued, "I will be downstairs on the couch if you need anything."

It was Jonathan's turn to find his breath, and he felt his shoulders drop as the tension left him.

"Would you like me to change the sheets for you before I go?"

"No, that won't be necessary, thank you."

She nodded understandingly, called for Drine, and left him to her room.

He didn't bother to look around, as he closed the door behind him, the search for information had lost its thrill for the night, and he had found that his exhaustion had caught up to him.

The man kicked off his shoes and plopped onto the unmade bed, letting the soft comfort drag him to sleep.

Jonathan wasn't sure of the time, as there were no digital clocks, but something told him that he had only been asleep for three hours as his head and eyes hurt from lack of rest. He didn't move, as he planned to go back to sleep, but he did glance around the dark space.

Epithumia's feminine silhouette was just in front of the window, at least that was what the doctor first thought when he saw her, but the longer he looked and the more awake he became, he could clearly see that it was not her.

The woman was a few inches taller than the witch; her hair was lighter and in a Gibson Girl fluffed style, and instead of wearing a silk robe she was sporting a long white nightgown, that touched the floor.

Before vanishing, she flashed a kind and gentle smile at Jonathan, and without a word, he dozed back off.

By morning, Jonathan woke up in the unfamiliar, large, and white canopy bed, and recalled the events of the previous night. He headed downstairs, where he was greeted warmly by Epithumia and a hearty breakfast.

There was bacon, eggs, toast, sausage, bagels, and fruit on a large plate waiting for him, and he greedily began to help himself, not remembering the last time he had had such a satisfying meal.

Upon finishing his meal, Epithumia tapped his shoulder and beckoned him to follow her to which she led him outside and around the house to the back.

She looked up to a window on the second floor, that had a long ivy trail to the ground floor that had begun to wrap around the iron of a small fence. When Jonathan followed her gaze, he briefly saw the black mass that he had encountered before, and once it disappeared, Epithumia spoke up.

"His name was Dennis Sinclair and he was not a good man. In the year of 1925, the Dunmar family, along with their youngest daughter Flossy, were resting peacefully, asleep in their beds, when Dennis targeted their home."- Epi pointed at the ivy climb – "He made his way up these vines and entered into what was then Flossy's room. Dennis then murdered everyone in the house and took what he could carry, but while he was finishing up a servant from the garden house, that's at the beginning of my driveway, was approaching to check on her masters after hearing the gunshots. Dennis figured he would simply exit the way he came while the servant entered the house, but as he did so he fell and landed on the spikes of this fence, killing himself."

As she gestured down, Jonathan saw where the iron was still bent from what he could only assume was the accident.

"The house was empty for roughly twenty years before I came along, and I've lived here ever since. Flossy is a spirit here too and I've succeeded in consoling her, but Dennis never exits that room and rarely speaks. The only thing I know is no one can be allowed to step into that bedroom."

Jonathan's early morning awakening came back to him in a haze, "I believe I've already met Flossy."

Epi chuckles and started to head back inside.

"I'm not surprised, as she is quite the social butterfly."


	21. Avid Collector

"I've got it!"

Epithumia jumped up with glee and nearly startled Jonathan, who had been sitting peacefully beside her on the couch.

The two had been brainstorming on ideas to at least have a chance in confronting Durratine, when the little witch had seemed to conjure up an idea.

She did not hesitate to then grab the sample of toxin and the doctor's hand and take them both upstairs.

The three doors came before them, and the witch turned around to face the stairs.

"We will need the library and mineral room for this."

He watched as the little witch twisted the sphere of the left banister seven times and the wall, parallel to the top floor, stretch further back to reveal two doors, one on each side of the open banister.

"This way."

She smiled and subconsciously reached for the doctor's hand again, before he could inquire, and pulled him towards the door on the right side.

The room was bright but warm with dark wood paneling, as what little wall you could see, and rich, dark built-in shelves, from the ceiling to the floor filled to the brim with books, as most of the room. To the far left was a large bay window fitted with curtains over a bench prepared as a reading nook with a knitted blanket and throw pillows. Just to the right, in between two shelves, was a large, square, stain glass window of a doe under a tree that gave the room its brilliant brightness.

"Hidden rooms, I should have guessed."

Epi giggled, "If you look at the blueprints for the house, you can see that they've always been here. It wouldn't make sense for the second floor to be so different in size from the first floor."

"Why hide them?"

"In the lifetimes that I've had, the one thing that has proven to be the most lethal weapon is knowledge."

Crane nodded to that conclusion, himself overly aware of the power behind information.

She ushered him to the bench and pulled down a book to find the passage she needed.

"So, though we may not be able to 'mix' together chemistry and alchemy, we can make a curse out of the two."

Jonathan squinted at the pages the little witch had placed on his knees. They contained a diagram and some symbols alongside some scripture that he wasn't able to transcribe, but he understood all the same from the visual map available.

He paused a moment before speaking.

"Do you have any evidence that this will work?"

"I don't, but I do believe it wouldn't be in such a reliable book if it hasn't worked before."

The man let out an exasperated sigh before standing up and handing her back the book. However, as her fingers closed around the spine his grip slipped around her wrist and he took no time in yanking her into his chest and bending till his lips were next to her ear.

The woman shuttered out a breath as his emotionless tone mingled with his low words and hot breath into her ear.

"If your little tricks, in any way, tamper with the perfection of my toxin, when this is all over, you will be my new lab rat. Understand?"

"You needn't worry about something like that," the little witch managed to huff out under the pressure of his body being pressed so close to hers; it was almost suffocating.

Just as fast as he had pulled her in, he let her go, stepped back, and made his way to the door, only to stop and turn back.

"What else do you need, Ms. Bashem?"

Epithumia shook her head to regain herself and respond.

"Gemstones."

The doctor's eyebrow did rise to the sight of the next room on the other side. Shelves were again built into the walls, but instead of containing books, they contained a vast, and vibrant variety of colorful, glistening stones; each more beautiful than the last. The light that poured in from the circular window was caught in the shimmering structure of them all.

He marveled, as he stepped in, at every shelf he passed until something unexpected made him freeze. There was a whole shelf system with common mineral rocks such as sandstone, slate, and even smooth garden stones amongst the shimmering collection.

Jonathan curiously picked up what looked to be a chunk of a polished granite countertop and cleared his throat.

The witch, who was in the middle of gathering some geodes turned to him.

"Ms. Bashem, what is this?"

He asked this while clearly and firmly nodding the chunk he held in his hand as what he was addressing.

Without batting an eye, she replies with, "That is a part of my rock collection."

"Surely, you must be joking."

"It's still a rock, Jonathan."

The doctor opened his mouth to spew forth every logical point he had on why she didn't need this, but decided against it, as it was still technically a rock.

He went to put it back but just as he did, he noticed the shelf just below had an even worse and useless assortment. There was half a red brick, a chunk of sidewalk cement, and hardened clay.

"Is that a piece of asphalt?!"

"Doctor, if you are going to be judgmental then I will have to ask you to leave the room!"

"BUT THAT IS NOT EVEN A REAL ROCK!"

"GO WAIT OUTSIDE, JONATHAN!"

The man huffed as he waited for her to finish her task just outside the room. While he waited, there was a tiny pitter-patter coming from the stairs, and as he looked Drine was waddling up to the doorway.

The palm cockatoo fluffed up aggressively, but continued to waddle past him, all the while starring the lanky man down.

Epithumia had just finished gathering the necessary minerals when she heard her familiar's signature whistle. When she turned to him, he had already climbed the shelves and was stretching out his leg to step up.

She offered her arm and he shimmied up her shoulder to her ear.

"I know you saw him last night, and he now knows where to find us."

She gulped in dread, remembering the dream she had had last night.

Durratine had appeared to her last night, taunting her, but she hadn't realized that would be a way to locate her.

"What did he say to you, Mistress?"

Epithumia looked at Jonathan who was still waiting by the door.

"Jonathan, could you please take all of this downstairs," she asks while handing him the supplies, "I'll be down in a moment."


End file.
